MVYRSN 


UNIT.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELF* 


Other  Books  ^  Paul  Myron 

Mid-Nalion  Publishers,  Lincbarger  Brothers' 

Successors,  announce  the  following  future 

issue   of   boolfs   by   Paul   Myron 

BOOKS  ON  CATHAY 
Chinese  John.     To  correct   our   false   im- 
pression of  the  Chinese. 

Latch  String*  to  China.  An  interpreta- 
tion of  Chinese  life  through  tales  of 
tragedy,  mystery  and  humor.  (Running 
in  Mid- Nation  Magazine.) 

ROMANCES  OF  TRAVEL 
Daniel    Daref.     Around    the    world    de- 
scriptive novel  which  centers  its  romance 
in  the  Latin  Quarter. 

The  World  Cone  Mad.  The  intimate 
story  of  a  woman's  love  as  influenced  by 
the  horrors  of  war. 

OTHER  SUBJECTS 

When  Japan  i*  Ready.  The  French, 
German  and  American  viewpoints  of  the 
Far  East.  Paul  Myron's  six  years  in- 
cumbency as  U.  S.  Judge  in  the  Philippines, 
and  his  subsequent  wide  travels  in  the 
Orient  form  the  ground  work  of  the  narra- 
tive. 

Martha'*  Christian  Science.  A  tale  of 
the  Bright  Way.  A  popular  study  of 
Christian  Science,  compared  with  the 
teachings  of  John  Wesley. 

Mid-Nation  Publishers 

Linebarger  Terrace,  Milwaukee,  Wis. 


'Your  Fury  of  divorce,  that  robbed    me  of  my    happiness,    commenced  in    our 

little  Parisian  apartment,  where  I  pictured  the  triumph  of  our  future 

as  I  vocalized  and  ironed  your  shirts."     (Page  250.) 


Miss  American  Dollars 


A  ROMANCE  OF  TRAVEL 


BY 


PAUL   MYRON,  p  5^ 

Author  of  "OUR  CHINESE  CHANCES",  Etc. 


>\yi 


With  Original  Pictures 

BY 
FRANCOIS    OLIVIER 

and  other  Illustrations 


MID-NATION    PUBLISHERS 

MILWAUKEE,  WIS. 
MCMXVI 


COPYRIGHT  1916 

BY 
P.  W.  LINEBARGER 


Printed  in  America 


W.    B.    CONKEY   COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  ONE 
CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Magnus  First  Appears 11 

II.     Count  Coste  Counts  the  Cost 16 

III.  "I  Shall  be  King" 23 

IV.  Albania 30 

V.     A  Chance  of  Rivalry 34 

VI.    At  Corfu   38 

VII.     The  Kingdom   42 

VIII.     The  Rock  of  Sappho 45 

IX.     Messenians  and  Spartans 53 

X.     The  Marriage  Vase 55 

XI.     O'Rourke  Appears 60 

XII.     A  Glance  Backward 68 

XIII.  Coste's  Awakening 73 

XIV.  Revenge    76 

XV.     Coste  Drops  Out 80 

XVI.     An  Aegean  Cruise 84 

XVII.     Trialism    87 

XVIII.     Mountain  Artillery    90 

XIX.     A  Mistake  and  a  Gun 93 

XX.     The  Figure  in  Gray 94 

XXI.     Coup  D'Etat   97 

BOOK   TWO 
CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Magnus  Plans  Again 101 

II.    Going  to  War 103 

5 


2131580 


6 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

III.  To  Win  Honors 108 

IV.  Weeding  the  Flower 113 

V.     Some  Crumpled  Letters 117 

VI.     The  Mission  of  Mercy 120 

VII.     The  Cruise  of  Three 122 

VIII.    The  Golden  Horn 124 

IX.     "It  is  Growing  Late" 126 

X.     Golden  Eagles  Backsheesh 131 

XL     Sweet  Waters  of  Asia 136 

XII.     The  Isles  of  Princes 139 

XIII.  In   the   Marmora 142 

XIV.  The  Caique 145 

XV.     What  Happened  to  Ward 147 

XVI.     When   Thieves  Pray 149 

XVn.     "To  Get  Married  on" 155 

XVin.    Magnus  Again   158 

XIX.     The  Holy  War 161 

XX.    From  Varna  to  Rustchuk 164 

XXI.     In  the  Gray  of  Morning 170 

XXII.     New  Army  Roads 174 

XXIII.  Down  the  Road 177 

XXIV.  A  Voice  From  the  Ground 178 

XXV.    With  the  Wounded 182 

XXVI.    A  Father's  Love 186 

XXVII.    To  Neutral  Land 188 

XXVIII.     A  Deck  Confidence 193 

XXIX.     For  Old  Glory 195 

XXX.     Not  Militarism  but  Americanism 199 

XXXI.     The  Door  Ajar 207 

XXXII.     More  Than  Mere  Spoken  Words 208 

XXXITL  The  Decoration  .                                                            .  211 


CONTENTS  7 

t 

BOOK   THREE 
CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    Land  of  Old  Glory 215 

II.     "See  America  First" 221 

III.  A  Coincidence  of  Travel 227 

IV.  "Big  America"   234 

V.    An  American   Soldier 237 

VI.    The  Lost  Art  of  Walking 247 

VII.     A  Geographical  Illusion 251 

VIII.     A  Freak  Nation 258 

IX.     More  Test  of  Forbearance, 262 

X.     White  Slaves 265 

XI.     The  Asiatic  Frontier 271 

XII.    The  City  of  the  Good  Herb 275 

Xin.     Disillusion  278 

XIV.     Remorse  Brings  Repentance 280 

XV.    What  the  Drug  Did 282 

XVI.    The  Search 283 

XVII.     Pain  in  a  Prison  of  Pleasure 285 

XVIII.     The  Awakening 287 

XIX.    A  Woman's  Advantage 295 

XX.     I  am  Thine..                                                                  .  297 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 


Mid-Nation  Publishers  take  the  liberty  to  suggest 
that  the  romance  of  "Miss  American  Dollars,"  is 
not  founded  upon  an  imaginary  kingdom,  but  indeed 
upon  current  history,  pivoting  from  the  actuM  crea- 
tion of  Albania  by  the  Sextuple  Group  before  plung- 
ing into  the  Great  War. 

All  the  details  of  the  varied  descriptive  matter  are 
actual  although  the  moving  characters  are,  of  course, 
creatures  of  the  author's  imagination:  but  the  refer- 
ences to  events  and  personages  of  history  are  real. 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 
PAGE 

"Your  American  Fury  of  divorce,  robbed  me  of  my  happiness, 
commenced  in  our  little  Parisian  apartment,  where  I 
pictured  the  triumph  of  our  future  as  I  vocalized  and 
ironed  your  shirts." Frontispiece 

"Her  face  in  his  fancy  shone  down  upon  him  from  the  sap- 
phire sky  above  Salamis— in  a  beauty  to  him  fairer  than 
that  which  inspired  Phidias." 68 

"Beyond  the  roadside  cemetery  a  huddled,  white  gowned  figure 
was  going  into  the  gateway,  suggestive  of  a  spirit  passing 
into  the  other  land." 130 

"Then  the  whole  world  grew  red  and  black  before  her  and  the 
earth  sank  and  rose  in  the  thunder  of  the  battle.  She 
wondered  why  they  still  bothered  with  those  tiny  sabers 
and  rifles  when  the  big  guns  were  bringing  the  very  heavens 
down  upon  them." 180 

"Oh!  The  grief  of  that  peasant  mother.  It  is  such  as  she 
who  alone  repair  the  ravages  of  war.  With  her  face 
still  swollen  with  weeping  she  turns  from  her  soldier's 
grave  to  the  cradle  of  his  child,  knowing  that  the  diaper  of 
today  will  change  to  war's  death  shroud  tomorrow." 188 

"It's  confirmation  of  the  news  of  the  death  of  his  last  son — 
there  were  four  of  them  all  killed  in  battle— and  now  he 
has  only  that  daughter  left.  See  how  she  tries  to  avoid 
hearing  the  news  and  how  he  hesitates  to  tell  her." 210 


MISS   AMERICAN   DOLLARS 


I 

IN  WHICH  MAGNUS  FIRST  APPEARS 

' '  Yes !  We  must  find  an  American  heiress — a  real  Yankee 
millionairess.  .  .  .  Think  of  what  we  have  to  offer  her!  A 
throne!  .  .  .  Just  reflect  on  the  part  that  Albania  will  some 
day  have  to  play  in  the  control  of  the  Adriatic  and  in 
the  whole  game  of  war  or  in  the  concerts  of  peace.  .  .  . 
Look !  .  .  .  "  and  Magnus,  dark  and  heavy,  sinister  but  com- 
manding, tapped  his  hand  upon  the  map  outspread  on  the 
mahogany  desk  before  him,  snapping  with  his  forefinger  at 
the  coast  line  just  above  the  island  of  Corfu. 

"What  are  a  few  trashy  millions  in  mere  gold  compared 
with  the  power  and  influence  over  lives  which  will  eventually 
go  with  that  throne  when  it  has  the  right  sort  of  King  and 
Queen?  .  .  .  Considering  that  American  fathers  and  Amer- 
ican daughters  have  paid  cargoes  of  money  for  mere  empty 
titles,  how  much  then  would  you  estimate  the  value  of  this 
real  throne  of  power?" 

From  the  fireside,  the  cheerful  flames  licked  out  against 
the  raw  damp  air  which  both  men  soldier-like  tolerated  as 
it  came  up  from  the  waters  of  the  Grand  Canal.  Count 
Coste  buttoned  his  coat  and  then  poised  his  cigarette,  his 
eyes  following  its  gilded  escutcheon  to  avoid  the  questioning 
gaze  of  Magnus. 

"I  say,  what  would  not  such  an  office  be  worth  in  Amer- 
ican millions  ? ' '  repeated  Magnus,  as  he  took  from  his  pocket 
and  put  to  his  lips  what  appeared  to  be  a  cigarette,  but  really 
only  a  very  clever  imitation  made  of  unglazed  porcelain 
and  filled  with  some  strongly  mentholated  drug,  at  which 
he  took  a  whiff. 

11 


12  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Perhaps  a  great  deal — ,  perhaps  nothing,"  at  length 
drawlingly  answered  the  Count.  "But  what  has  all  this  got 
to  do  with  me?" 

"Perhaps  a  great  deal — ,  perhaps  nothing,"  mockingly 
responded  Magnus,  as  he  strode  forward  and  sitting  down 
directly  opposite  Coste,  leaned  over  and  drawled  out  delib- 
erately. 

' '  Say !    How  much  are  your  gambling  debts  at  the  Club  ? ' ' 

Coste  jumped  up,  his  cheeks  aflame  with  anger  and  his 
fists  clenched. 

' '  Sit  down,  my  boy, ' '  exclaimed  Magnus,  placing  his  hands 
on  the  shoulders  of  the  Count.  "Please  sit  down  and  hear 
me  through,  for  I  am  your  best  friend,  if  you  only  knew  it, 
and  I  mean  no  offense.  Hear  me  through  and  then  strike 
me  afterward  if  you  wish — ,  and  I — I,  a  man  old  enough  to 
be  your  father — will  not  resent  it.  ...  You  owe  exactly 
one  hundred  and  twelve  thousand  lire,  do  you  not?"  .... 

Coste  gave  a  start  of  surprise  and  then  limply  sank  back 
into  the  chair.  The  figure  was  correct. 

"Now,  my  dear  Count,"  continued  Magnus,  satisfied  at 
the  effect  his  words  had  had,  "you  certainly  could  not  be- 
lieve that  I  would  interest  myself  in  you  to  the  extent  of 
finding  out  about  your  gambling  debts  if  I  did  not  intend 
to  befriend  you.  Please  calm  yourself.  May  we  not  be  for- 
tified by  having  a  little  liqueur?" 

Coste  remained  silent  with  tightened  lips  as  Magnus 
pushed  the  button.  Immediately  a  footman  appeared. 

"I  believe  that  your  preference  is  fine  champagne,"  he  in- 
timated to  Coste. 

"I  suppose  that  you  found  that  out  also  from  the  Club 
gossips,"  sneeringly  assented  the  Count. 

Magnus,  giving  his  order  to  the  servant,  pretended  not  to 
notice  the  remark. 

They  were  decorously  served  from  a  concealed  sideboard 
panelled  in  at  the  end  of  the  wonderful  Venetian  banquet 
hall  which  seemed  a  part  of  this  Magnus,  the  mysterious, 
who,  in  his  elaborate  suite  of  extravagant  rooms,  by  the 
reigning  force  of  his  personality,  called  back  in  fancy  the 


MAGNUS  FIRST  APPEARS  13 

generations  of  courtly  conspirators  who  had  flitted  out  much 
of  the  intrigue  of  their  lives  within  just  such  Venetian 
Palace  walls.  Perhaps  some  thought  of  that  tragic  past 
came  to  Magnus  as  he  sat  watching  the  Count — of  that  fiery 
past  whose  passion  still  lived  on  alone  in  him,  as  far  as  one 
could  judge  him  by  his  present  conduct,  in  an  avarice  for 
power, — power  for  gold  when  to  the  world  all  the  nobler  im- 
pulses of  his  heart  were  dead.  He  daintily  raised  the  clear 
glass  of  opal  liqueur. 

"Here's  to  your — to  our — success  in,  in — everything,"  he 
ventured,  and  his  reassuring  smile  mirrored  something  of 
smoothness  in  the  ruffled  look  of  concession  upon  the  Count's 
handsome  features  as  he  lightly  lifted  the  glass  and  then 
drained  it  in  a  gulp. 

Silence  again  prevailed  until  the  footman,  at  a  sign  from 
Magnus  had  left. 

"Are  the  old  rules  of  the  Club  in  regard  to  the  payment 
of  gambling  debts  still  in  force?"  drawled  Magnus  heavily 
but  with  a  soothing,  rising  inflection  to  his  perfect  Italian. 

The  Count's  face  grew  grey.  Helplessly  he  sank  back  into 
the  chair.  The  flame  of  his  anger  seemed  to  reflect  itself 
from  the  embers  burning  in  the  grate  before  him. 

"Pardon!"  conciliated  Magnus,  "I  mean  no  offense.  I 
merely  wanted  to  say  that  if  you  are  distressed  I  think  that 
I  can  find  a  way  to  relieve  you." 

Coste  did  what  many  smoking  men  do  when  they  are  ex- 
citedly perplexed:  puffed  away  until  the  nervous  twitching 
of  his  face  settled  into  a  mold,  sphynx-like  under  the  mantle 
of  smoke  which,  with  each  puff,  screened  his  features  and 
then  floated  upward,  snatching  away  some  fancied  part  of 
doubt  and  uncertainty.  As  he  smoked,  he  lightly  fingered 
his  cigarette  case  while  the  thought  flashed  out  Marconi-like 
from  the  fire  of  his  cigarette  to  the  reflective  center  of  his 
still  disturbed  brain. 

Evidently  Magnus  was  hard  after  him  for  something — 
perhaps  good,  perhaps  bad — he  couldn't  decide  yet.  Every- 
body in  the  Club  was  apprehensive  of  Magnus — that  was  the 
nickname  some  one  had  given  him  because  he  seemed  so 


14  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

heavy,  so  mysterious  and  came  with  such  vague  yet  tremen- 
dous credentials,  that  he  was  accepted  just  as  he  was,  pre- 
cise and  powerful, — no  one  ever  thought  of  inquiring 
who  he  really  was,  or  where  he  might  be  eventually  going; 
Magnus  the  Austrian  who  spoke  German  like  a  Berliner, 
Italian  like  a  Florentine  and  all  the  other  usual  languages 
like  a  practiced  polyglot  and  whose  every  measured  word 
came  like  a  deciding  voice  from  a  Tribunal  of  last  resort. 
He  knew  everything  and  everybody,  although  he  had  few 
friends  and  communicants.  When  he  appeared  anywhere 
he  was  always  alone  and  came  and  went  like  an  expansive, 
shadowing  ghost.  It  was  known  that  at  one  time  he  had 
occupied  a  very  high  Austrian  Cabinet  office, — that  then  he 
had  been  appointed  ambassador  abroad  and  that  thereafter — 
well — he  had  apparently  retired.  This  was  all  that  the 
Count  could  really  remember  about  him.  .  .  .  Why  should 
Magnus  have  asked  him  to  call?  Why  this  solicitude  con- 
cerning his  debts?  Could  it  be  that  he  intended  to  tender 
him  the  throne  after  he  had  found  a  match  for  him  with 
some  American  millionairess?  .  .  . 

Coste  could  hardly  account  for  what  the  massive  Magnus 
was  leading  up  to.  But  he  realized  that  he  was  not  in  a 
position  to  quarrel  with  any  one  who  was  in  the  least  dis- 
posed to  help  him  out  of  his  gambling  disgrace. 

"And  in  case  you  would  save  me  from  my  troubles  at  the 
Club — what  would  you  expect  in  return?" 

"Expect  you  to  do  exactly  what  I — we,  would  ask  of 
you — " 

The  Count  raised  his  handsome  head  inquiringly.  Mag- 
nus, with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  continued. 

"More  than  this  I  cannot  tell  you  now,  but  if  you  will 
do  as  you  will  be  told,  your  gambling  debts  will  be  paid  and 
fortune  will  smile  on  you  most  beamingly." 

The  Count  reflected.  He  was  not  conceited.  He  had  been 
too  gently  and  nobly  bred  to  ever  look  in  the  mirror  for 
love  of  what  he  saw  there  or  to  exaggerate  his  personal  quali- 
ties even  in  those  strange  confidences  which  all  human  beings 
have  within  their  own  mind  concerning  their  own  self-es- 


MAGNUS  FIRST  APPEARS  16 

timated  value.  But  he  did  know  that  he  had  royal  blood 
in  his  veins;  that  he  had  come  from  one  of  the  oldest  houses 
of  all  Europe  and  that  so  far  as  he  himself  was  concerned,  he 
had  done  nothing  to  tarnish  the  proud  name  he  bore,  ex- 
cept, alas,  for  the  skeleton  which  he  now  saw  framing  itself 
out  from  every  deal  of  the  cards ;  dry,  rattling  bones  already 
grimly  assembled,  but  which  had  as  yet  not  stalked  be- 
fore the  world.  What  was  it  that  Magnus  wanted  him  to 
do?  Why  was  it  that  he  was  willing  to  rehabilitate  his  posi- 
tion in  the  gambling  circle  of  the  Club  by  paying  his  in- 
debtedness? Surely,  without  any  vanity  on  his  part,  he, 
Count  Coste,  was  eligible  to  the  throne  by  reason  of  the 
nobility  of  his  forebears.  Yes.  That  must  be  it — ,  Magnus, 
without  wishing  to  commit  himself,  wanted  him  to  be  King 
of  Albania,  and  in  order  to  crown  him,  was  seeking  to  marry 
him  to  an  American  millionairess.  ...  Of  course  Magnus 
liad  some  ulterior  purpose — that  of  his  own  aggrandisement 
in  one  of  the  many  ways  that  political  intrigue  on  such  a 
large  scale  offered,  but  what  could  it  matter  to  Coste  as  long 
as  in  this  most  attractive  fashion  he  could  be  pulled  out  free 
from  the  meshes  of  his  gambling  creditors? 

As  he  thus  reflected,  he  felt  his  heart  suddenly  grow  light 
within  him.  At  length  his  dark  eyes  shone  with  gratitude 
toward  Magnus  and  there  was  a  buoyant  levity  in  his  words 
when  he  ventured. 

"Well,  I  hardly  like  this  Dr.  Faust  and  Mephisto  fashion 
of  pledging  myself.  Come,  please  tell  me  more  about  it." 

"That  I  cannot,"  declared  Magnus  firmly.  "It  is  for  you 
to  promise  absolutely  or  else  let  the  matter  drop  exactly 
where  it  is.  What  I  ask  of  you  is  that  you  do  just  as  I  say, 
that  you  help  me  as  I  shall  suggest.  In  return,  I  will  help 
you,  commencing  first  of  all  by  paying  up  your  gambling 
debts  and  providing  you  with  such  funds  as  may  be  needed 
as  we  go  along  on  our  enterprise.  More  than  this  I  can  tell 
you  nothing."  He  took  a  whiff  from  his  porcelain  cigarette 
and  then  nonchalantly — almost  indifferently,  asked: 

"Do  you  promise?" 


16  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Does  a  drowning  man  promise  to  requite  him  who  saves 
him?"  returned  the  Count. 

"Bene,"  said  Magnus.  "We  will  then  conclude  that  our 
contract  for  mutual  service  is  entered  into,  will  we  not?" 

"Yes!  And  now  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  eagerly 
asked  Coste. 

"I  will  tell  you  when  the  proper  time  conies,"  responded 
Magnus,  rather  coldly.  "That  will  be  all  for  to-day.  No, 
wait  a  moment,  we  must  drink  a  toast  before  we  part,  a 
toast  to  the  King  and  Queen  of  Albania." 

They  waited  in  silence  while  the  footman  brought  the 
champagne,  and  their  voices  sounded  hardly  louder  than 
the  gilded  ceiling  echo  of  the  chink  of  their  glasses  when 
the  two  stood  up  and  faced  each  other  as  they  toasted. 

"And  now  we  will  finish  the  bottle  just  to  her  alone,  and 
may  she  quickly  appear,  our  Queen  American  Dollars." 

As  the  wine  fizzed  dry  in  the  Count's  throat,  he  tried  to 
visualize  in  his  imagination  a  girl  to  fit  the  strange  title, 
and  in  response  to  the  puzzled  query  of  his  face,  the  iron 
set  features  of  Magnus  relaxed  as  he  said: 

"Do  not  doubt.  She  will  appear  sooner,  perhaps,  than  you 
think  and  she  will  also  be  beautiful.  .  .  .  this  Queen  Amer- 
ican Dollars." 


II 

COUNT  COSTE  COUNTS  THE  COST 

The  Count  himself  spoke  all  the  principal  European  lan- 
guages well,  and  was  such  a  perfect  linguist  that  his  mind 
phrased  its  meditations  into  whatever  language  a  certain  per- 
son or  thing  nationalized  itself.  Hence,  as  he  stepped  down 
into  the  gondola  waiting  for  him  at  the  end  of  the  marble- 
faced  balconied  palace,  at  a  curious  side  entrance  half  con- 
cealed by  the  flowered  running  vines  of  the  garden  walls, 
his  thought  inwardly  expressed  itself  in  the  language  of 
Queen  American  Dollars,  and  the  phrase  screened  itself  out 


COUNT  COSTE  COUNTS  THE  COST          17 

in  his  mind  as  if  he  were  reading  it  as  a  headline  in  a  news- 
paper : 

"COUNT  COSTE  COUNTS  THE  COST" 

The  alliteration  and  the  double  sense  of  the  words  hardly 
occurred  to  him  as  he  continued  his  reflections.  Yes,  it 
would  be  a  great  cost  to  him — ,  this  selling  of  his  liberty — , 
this  entering  into  a  bargain  where  even  his  very  honor  might 
in  some  way  be  irretrievably  lost.  What  a  fool  he  had  been 
to  gamble!  He  was  not  at  all  a  lenient  judge  ordinarily  of 
his  own  conduct,  and  as  the  swish  of  the  gondola's  oar  caine 
to  his  ears,  its  soft  sound  became  a  lash  striking  upon  his 
conscience.  .  .  .  How  could  it  ever  have  been  brought  about 
that  he,  Count  Coste,  who,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  was  the 
oldest  direct  male  descendant  of  one  of  the  most  ancient 
houses  of  Europe — ,  that  he,  ...  could  have  been  a 
fool  to  the  extent  of  compromising  his  reputation  for  the 
madness  of  gambling?  He  felt  sure  that  it  was  because  of 
some  mental  weakness  resulting  from  the  wound  which  he, 
as  lieutenant  in  command  of  his  company,  had  received  in 
a  murderous  attack  from,  the  tribesmen  of  Enver  in  Tripoli, 
and  for  the  slow  healing  of  which  he  had  been  invalided 
home.  Coste  snapped  a  match  to  his  ever  ready  cigarette 
and  as  the  fire  crept  up  on  it,  higher  with  each  puff,  finally 
cindering  up  over  the  gilded  escutcheon  which  represented 
the  pride  of  his  great  family,  he  reflected  that  even  so  might 
he  be  consumed  by  his  inability  to  meet  his  gambling  debts. 

No.  There  was  no  other  way  out  of  it ;  he  must  do  exactly 
as  Magnus  said;  there  was  absolutely  no  other  chance  for 
him  to  ever  get  the  money.  His  family  had,  since  the  death 
of  his  father  some  twenty  years  before,  lost  very  large  sums 
of  money,  and  during  the  war  their  income  had  been  cut 
down  to  a  tithe  of  what  it  had  formerly  been.  At  the  present 
time,  one  hundred  and  twelve  thousand  lire  was  to  him.  a 
terrific  sum.  But  if  he  allowed  Magnus  to  advance  him  this 
money,  would  it  really  mean  any  more  than  a  transfer  of 
his  ruinous  obligation  to  perhaps  a  more  dangerous  indebt- 
edness? Would  it  not  mean  that  he  would  be  jumping  from 


18 

the  frying  pan  down  into  the  very  fire,  putting  himself  in 
the  clutch  of  one  man  rather  than  several — ,  of  one  man  a 
foreigner — an  Austrian — and  almost  a  stranger  at  that? 

As  he  thus  mused,  the  music  came  to  him  from  the  Piazza 
San  Marco.  It  was  a  concert  night  and  the  military  band, 
in  spite  of  the  sharp  damp  air  of  the  evening,  had  attracted 
a  crowd.  He  followed  up  between  the  stone  columns,  the 
Lion  of  St.  Mark  in  the  electric  light  casting  grotesque 
shadows  upon  the  marble  pavement.  Then  he  followed  on 
beneath  the  mass  of  the  Campanile,  down  through  the  arched 
lobbies  to  a  dark  corner  of  a  cafe,  where,  unobserved,  he 
could  sit  and  think.  The  music  awakened  the  half  dormant 
impulses  of  his  finer  nature  and  he  recoiled  at  the  thought 
of  the  promise  he  had  made  to  sell  his  very  soul,  as  it  were, 
to  Magnus.  But  he  was  not  yet  lost;  he  could  perhaps  still 
redeem  himself  in  some  manner.  He  called  for  a  cognac.  It 
ran  his  mind  like  molten  metal  into  a  new  mould.  How 
would  it  be  if  he  should  again  play  at  the  Club?  His  luck 
could  not  always  continue  against  him  and  perhaps  by  care- 
fully doubling  on  his  bets  he  might  wipe  out  the  entire 
amount  that  very  single  evening.  He  had  known  of  such 
things  being  done  before.  He  called  for  another  cognac  and 
after  drinking  it,  found  himself  quite  pleased  with  his  pur- 
pose to  try  to  mend  his  fortune  independently  of  Magnus. 
He  arose  and  impatiently  rapped  for  the  waiter,  eager  to 
pay  and  be  gone.  He  would  hurry  to  his  own  lodging  to 
change,  and  then  to  his  mother's  palace,  for  she  had  es- 
pecially urged  him  to  come  that  evening.  Afterwards  he 
would  go  to  the  Club  and  play  in  one  last  desperate  effort 
to  retrieve  his  losses. 

The  Duchess  was  delighted  at  his  coming,  and  as  soon  as 
he  was  announced,  came  out  into  the  small  reception  room 
which  served  as  an  anti-salon  to  the  great  hall  beyond. 

"How  good  of  you,  my  son!  It  has  been  so  long  since 
you  dined  with  us.  That  detestable  Club  seems  to  take  up 
all  of  your  time.  But  you  shall  be  rewarded  for  coming 
to-night  by  meeting  a  most  charmingly  beautiful  girl  who 
is  here  with  her  father.  It  is  Miss  Ward,  the  daughter  of 


COUNT  COSTE  COUNTS  THE  COST          19 

Colonel  Ward.  They  have  run  over  from  Genoa  just  to 
\isit  Cornelia,  who  is  to  go  with  them  and  me  on  their  pri- 
vate yacht  for  a  cruise  in  Grecian  waters.  Now  don't  lose 
your  heart  to  her,"  and  the  Duchess  let  her  eyes  dwell  fond- 
ly upon  him  for  a  moment  before  she  continued  in  a  low, 
sympathetic  tone : 

' '  Tell  me,  figlio  mio,  why  do  you  look  so  downcast  of  late  ? 
Tell  me,  my  darling  boy.  You  know  how  I  am  thinking  of 
you  always." 

Coste  put  her  aside  gently  and,  patting  her  cheek,  laughed 
away  her  solicitude  as  he  led  her  into  the  presence  of  her 
guests.  Before  a  picture — a  Titian — her  own  face  in  profile 
so  as  to  make  it  seem  almost  like  one  of  the  painted  figures 
and  a  part  of  the  picture  itself,  he  saw  the  chiseled  features 
of  a  wondrously  beautiful  young  woman,  her  rounded  arm 
lightly  resting  through  that  of  a  tall,  grey  haired  man. 

"Miss  Ward,  Colonel  Ward,  I  present  my  son,  Count 
Coste,"  introduced  the  Duchess,  and  then  laughingly  added, 
"He  is  a  very  bad  son,  for  he  sometimes  lets  a  whole  day 
go  by  without  coming  to  see  me,  but,  then,  you  know  that 
he  was  wounded  in  a  victorious  charge  against  the  Senussi — 
a  charge  which  he  himself  led — so,  you  see,  that,  not  being 
quite  recovered,  he  really  is  excusable." 

Athena  Ward  looked  at  the  handsome  military  figure  ad- 
miringly and  even  the  old  Colonel,  with  his  half  contempt 
for  the  scions  of  noble  families,  fixed  his  gaze  kindly  upon 
Coste. 

There  were  only  the  five  at  the  dinner  and  Cornelia  and 
Athena  were  soon  coming  to  terms  of  intimacy,  which  es- 
tablished a  real  feeling  of  deep  friendship  between  the  others 
before  the  dinner  was  half  concluded. 

Coste  reluctantly  arose  to  go  to  the  Club.  He  had  al- 
most forgotten  the  terrible  sword  of  Damocles  which  was 
hanging  over  his  head.  And  then  he  thought  of  Magnus — , 
of  how  he  was  selling  himself  to  escape  disgrace.  Ah,  he 
was  not  fit  to  sit  in  the  presence  of  such  women  as  his  mother, 
his  sister  and — ,  and — ,  this  new  angelic  woman  whom  he 
had  for  the  first  time  met  and  whose  beauty  was  beyond  any 


20  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

type  ever  before  conceived  by  him.  Again  he  settled  back 
into  his  chair,  feeling  like  a  convict  begging  still  for  some 
little  respite  before  being  led  away  to  the  gibbet.  Laugh- 
ingly he  picked  up  a  rose  which  had  become  disengaged  from 
the  modest  little  corsage  bouquet  that  Miss  Ward  wore  at 
her  slim  waist. 

"May  I  have  it?"  he  asked  as  he  picked  it  up  from  the 
table.  "It  is  just  about  the  right  size  for  a  boutonniere. 
Oh,  thank  you,"  he  continued,  as  she  for  answer  drew  it 
through  the  lapel  of  his  coat.  "How  did  you  know  that 
T  never  wore  flowers  unless  they  were  pinned  on  me  by  a 
lady  protectress?" 

Athena  smiled.  He  wondered  at  the  composure  of  the 
wonderful  American  Beauty  who,  in  a  mysterious  way,  dur- 
ing the  whole  evening  had  made  herself  the  center  of  con- 
versation without  really  having  taken  any  noticeable  part 
in  it.  With  the  presumption  of  Italian  youth,  he  looked  into 
her  eyes,  but  she  curtained  them  with  their  long  silken  lashes 
and  coolly  turned  her  attention  away  from  him.  Ah  .... 
Evidently  nothing  of  a  flirt  in  this  wonderful  woman — a 
composite  of  both  Juno  and  Venus.  He  looked  toward  his 
mother  and  saw  that  she  was  eyeing  him  anxiously. 

"Is  it  really  necessary  that  you  should  leave  us  so  soon?" 
she  asked. 

"Yes,  mother,"  he  responded  abruptly. 

He  arose  and  kissing  her  hand,  gracefully  and  gallantly 
bade  them  farewell.  In  a  moment  he  was  gone. 

His  heart  was  heavy  as  he  went  along  toward  the  Club. 
He  felt  as  if — yes,  he  knew  that  his  own  shortcoming  and 
frailty  had  cut  him  away  from  his  real  world. 

But  that  night, — that  very  night — ,  everything  would  be 
decided  for  him.  He  would  play  a  last  time — ,  he  would 
double  up  if  he  lost  and  would  play  treble  if  he  won.  Yes, 
that  was  the  system.  //  he  won — ,  .  .  .  then  he  would  be 
free — free  from  the  disgrace  of  the  debt  which,  with  its 
nightly  accumulations  had  hung  added  millstones  about  his 
neck  until  now  he  was  at  the  last  straining  point  of  his 
strength.  But  if  he  lost?  .  .  .  Well,  he  could  not  be  worse 


COUNT  COSTE  COUNTS  THE  COST          21 

off  than  he  actually  was,  and  he  could  do  as  the  German 
officers  did  when  they  were  in  irretrievable  disgrace :  a  pistol 
and  some  quiet  place  and  it  would  all  be  over.  .  .  .  With 
his  life  he  could  square  himself  with  the  world. 

"But  I  will  win!  Yes,  I  will  win,"  he  thought  to  him- 
self with  rising  hope  as  his  mind  again  went  back  to  the 
dinner  table  in  the  princely  dining  hall  of  his  mother 's  proud 
home. 

Coste  soon  had  his  place  again  at  the  table  of  silent 
players  where  the  pantomime  of  losers  and  winners  was  un- 
canny in  its  mystery  to  all  except  themselves. 

In  an  hour  he  had  lost  fifteen  thousand  lire,  five  thou- 
sand going  on  a  single  turn  of  the  cards.  His  fellow  gam- 
blers looked  at  him  in  side  glances  inquiringly,  then  one  to 
another,  wondering  at  his  mad,  unreasoned  play.  Coste, 
excusing  himself  from  the  table  for  a  moment,  went  down 
into  the  Club  library,  his  head  aswim  with  despair.  At  the 
first  table  in  the  dining  room  beyond  he  espied  Magnus,  as 
usual  entirely  alone.  Drawn  as  if  by  magnetic  influence, 
Coste  went  toward  him,  and  at  a  hypnotic  command,  sat 
down  opposite  him. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  that  you  have  met  her,"  remarked  Mag- 
nus, as  he  poured  out  a  sparing  portion  of  wine  from  the 
grotesquely  long  necked  decanter. 

"Met  whom?"  queried  Coste. 

' '  Why  the  Queen — Queen  American  Dollars.  Miss  Athena 
Ward  and  the  only  child  of  Colonel  Ward,  with  over  fifty 
million  lire  in  income  a  year." 

"What!     They  who  dined  with  my  mother  to-night?" 

"Exactly.  Thus  you  see  that  your  duties  are  not  so 
arduous  after  all.  By  the  way,"  he  continued,  as  he  no- 
ticed Coste 's  look  of  bewilderment.  "We  will  say  nothing 
further  in  that  regard  for  the  present,  for  it  is  needless  to 
discuss  your  American  guests.  It  is  now  more  important 
for  you  to  know  that  I  have  taken  up  your  I.  0.  U.'s. "  He 
dug  into  his  pocket  and  Coste  in  his  excitement  did  not  no- 
tice that  his  hand  came  back  empty.  "They  had  already 
gone  into  the  hands  of  usurers  and  there  was  an  extortion 


22 

of  interest  which,  you  probably  overlooked,  but  which,  of 
course,  I  gladly  paid,  in  view  of  the  circumstances  of  the 
debt."  He  leered  out  insinuatingly,  and  then  continued 
with  apparent  candor.  ''But  really,  you  must  stop  this 
gambling  madness.  If  you  must  play,  cut  down  your  stakes 
and  try  to  follow  some  sort  of  a  percentage  rule.  The  fif- 
teen thousand  lire  you  just  lost  was  money  thrown  away." 

Coste  looked  at  him  confusedly  as  he  continued. 

"Yes.  Cut  down  your  stakes.  Raising  your  bets  as  you 
proceed  is  always  a  bad  rule.  Always  follow  your  luck — 
don't  try  to  lead  it.  When  you  play  your  style  and  system, 
you  are  simply  making  luck  your  master,  and  there  is  no 
master  harder  than  luck." 

Coste  buried  his  chin  in  his  hands  and  then  on  a  sudden 
impulse,  reached  over  for  the  decanter  of  Chianti  wine  and 
drank  a  goblet  of  it  raw,  something  that  he  had  never  be- 
fore in  all  his  life  done.  After  he  had  wiped  his  lips,  he 
looked  at  Magnus  helplessly — ,  almost  as  a  dog  to  his  master. 

"Feel  in  your  right  hand  coat  pocket  and  there  you  will 
find  twenty  thousand  lire  to  pay  for  what  you  have  lost 
and  to  give  you  a  new  stake.  But  quit  when  you  have  lost 
that,  for  there  is  a  limit  to  everything." 

"But  I  cannot  always  lose,"  exclaimed  Coste,  as  almost 
involuntarily  he  felt  in  his  pocket  and  caught  the  crisp 
crinkle  of  the  bank  notes.  The  tone  of  gratitude  came  to 
his  voice  as  he  murmured  his  thanks. 

"Ah.  Indeed  you  can,"  returned  Magnus.  "Bad  luck 
runs  in  streaks  sometimes  as  long  as  a  man's  whole  life," 
saying  which  he  got  up  and  walked  away  indifferently  in 
his  elegant,  ponderous  fashion. 

Coste  watched  the  commanding,  self-possessed  form  as  he 
left  the  room  and  noticed  the  especial  deference  with  which 
the  lackey  opened  the  door  to  him — a  deference  which  even 
he,  of  kingly  lineage,  had  never  been  shown.  He  took  out 
a  cigarette  and  dazedly  smoked  in  the  same  seat  where  Mag- 
nus had  almost  contemptuously  thrust  the  bank  bills  into 
his  pocket.  He  clenched  them  fiercely  as  he  sat  and  blew 
the  smoke,  fighting  off  the  frenzy  of  his  desire  to  return  to 
the  gambling  table. 


"I  SHALL  BE  KING"  23 

His  features  at  length  masked  themselves  in  the  mold  of 
a  sudden  resolution.  He  arose,  went  to  the  wardrobe,  put 
011  his  hat  and  coat  and  had  already  left  the  Club,  when 
suddenly,  with  a  half  muttered  curse  against  himself,  he 
turned  about  and  with  staring  eyes  and  set  face,  like  one 
marching  to  his  doom,  rushed  back  into  the  card  rooms.  .  .  . 
Without  removing  hat  or  top-coat,  again  he  commenced  to 
play. 

It  was  one  o'clock  when  he  arose,  wan  and  haggard.  He 
feverishly  took  out  a  memorandum  book  and  with  a  trem- 
bling hand,  scrawled  out  the  entry  of  the  I.  0.  U.'s  he  had 
given  for  his  losses  which  for  that  night  alone,  now  totalled 
forty  thousand  lire. 

There  was  no  sleep  for  Coste  that  night.  He  cast  the 
events  of  the  day  over  in  his  mind  and  realized  that  he 
was  bound  heart  and  soul  to  Magnus.  He  asked  himself 
again  and  again  what  could  be  the  ultimate  motive  of  Mag- 
nus in  the  whole  intrigue.  He  felt  well  satisfied  that  it  was 
his  intention,  for  some  ulterior  purpose  which  he  could  not 
fathom,  to  marry  him,  Coste,  to  the  beautiful  American.  He 
was  inclined  to  look  upon  the  Albanian  throne  pretext  as 
a  sort  of  a  subterfuge  for  some  surer  game  whose  secrecy 
he,  Magnus,  did  not  dare  reveal.  Evidently  and  positively 
the  fair  American  and  her  handsome  father  were  to  be  made 
the  victims  of  a  conspiracy  of  which  he  himself  had  now 
become  an  irrevocable  part.  What  could  he  do  to  release 
himself  ?  .  .  .  How  could  he  ever  discover  the  real  purpose  of 
Magnus?  And  with  these  questions  calling  through  his  tired 
brain,  he  worried  through  the  night  in  an  agony  of  despair. 


Ill 
"I  SHALL  BE  KING"          

"Back  in  1843  a  bushel  of  wheat  was  worth  only  twenty- 
five  cents,  but  yet  that  twenty-five  cents  represented  a  hard 
day's  wage,"  said  Colonel  Ward  to  his  daughter  Athena, 


24 

as  he  stood  with  a  pigeon  perched  on  either  shoulder  and 
others  fluttering  about  in  their  endeavors  to  get  at  the  grain 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  while  they  loitered  about  in  the 
Piazza  San  Marco,  one  of  the  first  mornings  after  their  ar- 
rival in  Venice. 

"Father,  you  have  such  a  wonderful  brain,"  remarked 
Athena.  "Just  the  sight  of  this  grain  starts  your  mind 
back,  with  a  perfectly  accurate  memory,  nearly  two  genera- 
tions ago.  Do  you  realize  how  greatly  I  appreciate  you  as 
a  traveling  companion?  Everything  that  we  see  or  do  over 
here  seems  to  give  you  some  suggestion  of  America." 

"Thank  you,  daughter,"  warmly  responded  the  Colonel. 
"Perhaps  I  am  too  much  of  an  American."  He  put  his 
hand  back  to  stroke  the  back  of  a  pigeon,  which,  flying  away, 
brought  him  closer  to  Athena  when  he  said  in  a  lower  tone 
of  paternal  confidence : 

"Really,  do  you  know,  daughter,  I  would  get  greater  en- 
joyment out  of  meeting  these  splendid  men  and  women  here 
in  Venice  if  they  did  not  all  have  some  sort  of  title  of  no- 
bility tacked  on  to  them  which  always  makes  me  see  a  group 
of  ragged,  wretched  peons  just  in  the  perspective  beyond 
them." 

' '  Peons,  father ! ' '  exclaimed  Athena.  ' '  Why  peons  ?  They 
only  belong  to  Mexico." 

"Yes,  peons,  daughter.  For  they  were  the  first  sort  of 
economic  slave  I  ever  saw  and  my  mind  always  goes  back 
to  their  misery  and  suffering,  as  I  saw  it  as  a  drummer 
boy  in  the  Mexican  War  with  Zachary  Taylor.  Yes,  when 
I  see  the  gold  lace  liveries  of  European  nobility  in  my  im- 
agination I  also  see  the  rags  of  the  poor  and  I  wonder  how 
it  is  that  even  with  all  the  wealth  of  our  country  we  have 
gone  as  far  as  we  have  in  our  money  grabbing  without  more 
of  poverty  to  show  among  our  masses." 

A  stranger  would  have  wondered  at  the  paradox  of  such 
sympathy  from  one  who  had  done  much  for  those  who  pos- 
sessed nothing;  but  Athena  only  nodded  her  head  approv- 
ingly, for  she  was  well  in  sympathy  with  her  father's  al- 
most socialist  notions. 


"I  SHALL  BE  KING"  25 

"And  what  I  bemoan  more  than  anything  is  that  it  seems 
futile  to  attempt  any  sort  of  philanthropy  at  home.  Foun- 
ding libraries,  endowing  institutions,  creating  foundations 
of  scientific  research,  organizing  for  the  suppression  of  the 
social  evil,  or  against  intemperance,  all  this  is  not  a  matter 
of  private  philanthropy  but  rather  of  actual  governmental 
administration,  and  as  long  as  private  citizens  attempt  to 
do  such  work  just  so  long  will  the  public  administration 
shirk  its  duty.  The  extortionate  taxes  already  exacted  are 
amply  sufficient  to  take  care  of  all  necessary  details,  if  the 
money  was  properly  employed;  so  if  an  American  has  any 
world  humanitarianism  in  him  he  will  necessarily  turn  for 
attempts  at  benevolence  to  these  poorer  lands  of  Europe. 
Here  they  need  the  benefits  of  private  fortunes;  in  America 
all  we  need  is  better  government  and  only  four  wheels  to 
a  cart." 

An  approving  nod  from  Athena  led  him  along  further. 

"At  all  events  I  am  trying  to  find  out  the  right  way  and 
at  that  I  am  greatly  puzzled,  for  I  don't  want  to  make  any 
mistake,  and  thus  far  haven't  found  a  really  practical  way 
to  begin." 

"The  opportunity  will  present  itself,"  encouraged  Athena. 

"Yes,  but  how  and  where?  What  I  do,  I  want  to  do  right 
and  not  for  the  credit  of  myself,  but  for  the  credit  and  glori- 
fication of  my  country,  to  which  I  owe  everything."  His 
eyes  deepened  as  he  looked  at  her. 

"I  want  to  show  these  Europeans  that  we  are  not  all  'Dol- 
lar Chasers,'  as  they  believe  us  to  be.  I  am  glad  that  you 
taught  me  the  meaning  of  those  French  words  chasseurs  au 
dollar;  in  fact,  the  only  ones  that  I  have  ever  learned,  but 
which  from  having  revolved  them  over  in  my  mind  so  much, 
I  believe  that  I  can  even  properly  pronouce. ' ' 

He  puffed  for  a  moment  at  his  Havana  and  then  said  with 
an  emphasis  of  resolution  on  every  word. 

"I  am  going  to  show  our  European  friends  that  there  are 
kinder  appellations  to  give  us  than  'Dollar  Chasers.' 

' '  Of  course,  with  their  different  ideas  as  a  class  division — 
with  their  aristocracy  to  divide  up  their  classes  rather  than 


26  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

mere  money  alone,  I  suppose  that  they  over  exaggerate  our 
own  consideration  of  money — and  the  work  which  you  will 
do  among  them  will  do  everything  to  correct  their  wrong 
impression  of  us, "  said  Athena. 

"Yes,  and  it  is  only  in  this  way  that  we  can  convincingly 
deny  that  we  are  mere  'Dollar  Chasers.'  So  I  want  to  get 
the  thing  started  as  soon  as  possible,  for  I  am  getting  old — 
old,  very  old." 

He  stopped  abruptly,  for  he  knew  that  his  daughter  did 
not  like  to  have  his  memory  go  back  to  such  extremes  of 
perspective,  for  it  reminded  her  all  the  more  keenly  that  he 
was  already  an  octogenarian;  that  every  day  was  bringing 
closer  the  time  of  death's  inevitable  separation. 

"You  see,"  he  continued,  as  they  strolled  down  toward 
St.  Mark's,  "I  commenced  to  travel  really  too  late  in  life 
to  know  how  to  go  at  things  over  here  or  even  to  find  sym- 
pathy with  any  national  institution  or  racial  custom  other 
than  those  of  my  own  country.  They  may  call  us  a  nation 
of  boasters  if  they  wish,  poke  fun  at  the  gaudiness  of  our 
flag,  and  say  that  we  are  always  making  the  eagles  on  our 
dollars  screech,  but  they  can't  get  away  from  the  fact  that 
the  emblem  of  'Old  Glory'  represents  more  brotherhood  of 
man  and  actual  social  justice  than  the  world  has  ever  known 
before.  Do  you  know,  daughter,"  he  continued,  pulling  out 
another  black  cigar,  carefully  cutting  it  with  his  pen  knife, 
and  then  lighting  it  caressingly,  "do  you  know?"  he  re- 
peated, as  with  his  hand  he  struck  away  the  first  few  puffs 
of  smoke  that  the  breeze  blew  toward  his  daughter,  "speak- 
ing along  another  line,  I  would  very  much  dislike  to  think 
that  you,  the  only  one  left  me  in  the  whole  world,  might  ever, 
by  any  possible  chance,  have — ,  well,  any  sort  of  affection 
towards  one  of  these  noblemen  just  because  of  his  social 
prestige  and  lineage." 

Athena  raised  her  hand  protestingly. 

"Like  father,  like  daughter,"  she  laughed. 

"I  want  to  be  broad-minded,"  continued  the  old  man, 
"and  it  would  be  very  narrow  of  me  to  condemn  a  man 
just  because  he  happened  to  be  a  duke  or  something  of  that 
sort.  Why,  of  course,"  he  declared,  with  unusual  impetu- 


"I  SHALL  BE  KING"  27 

osity  for  one  of  his  years,  ''a  man  is  hardly  more  to  be 
blamed  for  that  sort  of  thing  than  a  Negro  is  to  be  blamed 
for  his  color.  Except,  of  course,"  he  added  reflectively,  "a 
duke  could,  if  he  foreswore  his  allegiance  to  his  king  or  em- 
peror, become  an  American  citizen — ,  but  I  wouldn't  give 
much  for  such  a  fellow  anyhow;  I  am  not  very  long  for 
the  fellow  who  breaks  a  pledge  or  violates  an  oath." 

Athena  laughed  approvingly,  and  the  sparkle  in  her  and 
in  her  father's  eyes  as  they  looked  at  each  other,  showed  how 
keenly  their  natures  responded. 

Colonel  Ward,  and  he  was  justly  entitled  to  the  appella- 
tion by  the  American  custom  of  courtesy,  was  a  man  whose 
whole  long  life  had  been  spent  in  thought — thought,  which 
from  an  European  standpoint,  might  have  been  considered  to 
have  run  in  too  deep  and  too  narrow  channels  of  mental  activ- 
ities, but  nevertheless,  his  thought  had  at  times,  and  at  all 
crucial  moments,  been  as  substantial  as  a  cannon  ball.  He 
was  a  man  who  had  succeeded  from  many  points  of  view. 
He  had  made  money  honestly;  made  it  not  by  luck  but  in 
spite  of  it,  and  only  after  his  hopes  had  been  often  buried 
under  the  ashes  of  disappointment.  And  more  than  mere 
money  making,  he  had  succeeded  as  a  representative  in  Con- 
gress in  promoting  legislation  which  curtailed  and  at  length 
finally  stopped  some  of  the  iron  fisted  grabbing  of  the 
predatory  interests.  And  yes,  even  more  than  that,  he  had 
made  himself  that  most  to  be  envied  man,  a  beloved  father 
and  an  idolized  husband. 

His  wife  had  followed  along  with  him  from  the  rocky 
path  of  his  adversity  out  upon  the  broad  sweep  of  his  years 
of  opulence;  and  then  (two  years  before  this  story  com- 
mences) she  had  stopped  by  the  wayside  for  her  eternal  rest. 

After  her  death,  the  father  and  daughter  commenced  to 
travel  abroad,  for  up  to  that  time  they  had  been  perfectly 
satisfied  to  remain  in  their  own  wonderful  America,  Mrs. 
Ward,  being  greatly  averse,  on  account  of  her  delicate 
health,  to  take  the  long  journey  across  the  ocean,  and  the 
Colonel  and  his  daughter  unwilling  to  go  without  her. 

But  in  their  desire  for  a  change  of  surroundings,  after 


28  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

his  wife's  death,  the  Colonel  refitted  his  palatial  yacht, 
which  for  a  couple  of  years  had  been  the  envy  of  Newport, 
and  prepared  it  for  a  long  cruise  of  the  Mediterranean. 

The  jaunt  had  been  a  delightful  one;  they  had  first  left 
the  yacht  at  Toulon  and  run  up  to  London  to  visit  some 
old  American  acquaintances,  whom  they  induced  to  come 
back  and  join  them  on  their  cruise  around  Italy  to  Venice. 

It  was  through  these  American  friends  that  they  met  the 
family  of  Count  Coste,  a  meeting  which  was  very  pleasant 
to  all  concerned.  The  decorum  and  extreme  politeness  which 
marked  even  the  intimacy  of  the  house  party  were  especially 
gratifying  to  the  old  American  to  whom  the  thoughtfulness 
of  every  detail  in  language  and  conduct  was  endearing  in 
its  demonstration  of  friendship. 

On  that  particular  morning,  as  they  strolled  about  the 
piazza,  and  finally  stood  under  the  column  of  St.  Mark's 
Lion,  looking  out  to  where  the  Colonel's  yacht  lay  at  anchor, 
some  thought  of  the  last  remarks  he  had  made,  still  linger- 
ing in  the  mind  of  the  old  man,  made  him  continue. 

"Now,  for  example,  that  young  Count  Coste  last  night, 
the  son  of  our  hostess,  the  chap,  eh — ,  eh — ,  well,  the  one 
you  gave  the  flower  to.  He  wasn't  such  a  bad  sort  of  a 
fellow,  was  he?" 

Athena  turned  her  gaze  questioningly  upon  him. 

"I  mean,"  the  Colonel  hastened  to  add.  fearful  that  she 
might  not  understand,  "I  mean  that  he  was  a  nice,  clean- 
cut  sort  of  a  fellow,  who,  if  he  had  a  chance  to  be  born  over 
in  a  hustling,  wide-awake  country  like  America,  without  a 
lot  of  coronets  fussed  out  on  his  handkerchief,  and,  I  sup- 
pose, his  underwear,  too,  for  that  matter,  to  remind  him 
that  he  belonged  to  a  very  ancient  and  very  dead  old  fam- 
ily, that  he  would  have  made  quite  a  mark  for  himself.  But 
last  night,  as  I  was  being  shown  through  the  Club,  there 
he  sat,  a  cigarette  between  his  teeth,  and  with  spots  on  his 
cheeks  as  red  as  a  boiled  lobster,  and  he  just  about  as 
useless  to  himself  and  his  family,  from  what  tho  olhors  told 
me  about  him,  as  one  of  the  coronets  on  the  inside  of  his 
hat  is  to  himself." 


"I  SHALL  BE  KING"  29 

"He  is  a  very  brilliant  talker,"  merely  remarked  Athena. 

"Yes,  that's  the  first  thing  they  teach  young  noblemen: 
to  learn  to  talk  a  lot  of  languages.  Now,  an  American,  if 
he  spent  as  much  time  in  learning  languages  as  they  do  over 
here,  why,  we  would  have  to  give  up  a  big  part  of  the  time 
we  now  devote  to  hustling." 

"Yes,  but  father,  you  remember  that  you  had  both  a 
French  and  German  governess  for  me,"  she  expostulated. 

"Yes,  for  you,"  remarked  her  father.  "For  you  were  a 
girl ;  for  the  accomplishments  of  women  should  be  just  about 
what  they  are  for  a  nobleman  feminine.  But  had  you  been 
a  boy  instead  of  a  girl,  I  would  have  let  you  stop  right  at 
the  good  old  United  States  speech  and  with  the  Hoosier 
twang  at  that." 

Athena  laughed  as  she  placed  her  hand  on  his  arm  af- 
fectionately. 

"But  why  pick  on  this  poor  wounded  count?"  she  asked. 
"Why  do  you  single  him  out  as  an  example  of  what  a  man 
should  not  be?" 

"Wounded,  did  you  say?''  asked  the  Colonel  with  a  new 
and  sudden  interest.  "Ah,  yes — I  had  forgotten  that  he  had 
been  wounded.  Now  I  remember,  the  Duchess  mentioned 
it." 

"Yes,"  returned  Athena.  "Then  his  sister  told  me  all 
about  it.  He  was  shot  right  through  the  side  in  Tripoli 
while  leading  his  company  of  Bersagliere  in  a  charge  in 
which  half  of  them  were  killed." 

"Well!  Well!  That  does  change  my  opinion  of  him  con- 
siderably, Funny  that  they  did  not  remind  me  of  it  at  the 
Casino  when  they  pointed  him  out  as  a  most  inveterate 
gambler  and  as  a  son  who  would  likely  prove  the  ruin  of 
his  whole  family.  Well!  Well!  Wounded.  I  wonder  if  it 
is  anything  like  I  got  at  Gettysburg.  I  really  would  like 
to  meet  the  young  fellow  again  and  exchange  experiences," 
and  then  he  added,  all  awake  with  interest,  "and  leading  his 
company,  was  he?" 

"Yes,"  responded  Athena.  "That's  the  reason  I  gave  him 
the  flower,  although  he  did  not  know  it.  ...  I  gave  it  to 


30  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

him  because  he  was  brave  like  my  father  always  is,"  and 
she  drew  his  arm  in  hers  and  looked  up  into  his  eyes. 

A  great  black  gondola  shot  around  the  canal  to  where 
the  water  lapped  against  the  stone  stairs  leading  to  the 
piazza,  and  a  swarthy  gondolier  bounded  toward  them,  cap 
in  hand,  exclaiming: 

"Si  aspetta,  Signore!" 

"Ah,  they  came  looking  for  us  sooner  than  I  thought," 
remarked  the  Colonel,  and  carefully  conducting  his  daughter, 
he  ushered  her  down  into  the  cushioned  interior  of  the  gon- 
dola where  the  Duchess  di  Manaldi  awaited  them. 


IV 

ALBANIA 

They  all  stood  around  the  spacious  mahogany  table  of  the 
social  hall  on  Colonel  Ward's  yacht,  passing  the  plans  and 
maps  about  and  occasionally  consulting  the  larger  ship  chart 
spread  out  before  them. 

"Of  course,  I  wish  the  ladies  to  decide  as  to  the  details 
of  the  cruise,  since  nothing  except  the  weather  can  inter- 
fere with  it  from  day  to  day.  So  from  here  we  shall  strike 
off  for  Corfu,"  said  "Ward,  turning  to  the  skipper  of  his 
yacht. 

"Very  good,  sir,"  responded  the  skipper.  "If  you  wish 
for  a  little  adventure  we  might  touch  at  Durazzo.  Having 
been  a  soldier  yourself,  perhaps  it  might  interest  you  to 
see  how  the  insurrection  is  proceeding  there." 

"Ah,  yes,"  returned  Ward,  his  interest  suddenly  awak- 
ened. "They  are  just  carving  out  that  country  from  the 
surrounding  territory,  aren't  they?  It  is  a  capital  idea. 
Just  think  of  visiting  a  country  all  made  to  order  by  a  few 
strokes  of  diplomatic  pens.  What  are  the  last  reports  had 
from  Albania?"  he  asked  of  Count  Coste. 

Coste  for  a  moment  lost  his  poise.  He  knew  that  the 
question  had  been  innocently  directed  to  him,  but  for  a 


ALBANIA  31 

moment  was  disturbed  to  have  his  possible  father-in-law 
(ah,  would  that  "possible"  eventualize?)  ask  him,  as  the 
probable  King  of  Albania,  how  that  particular  country  was 
faring.  His  mind  flashed  back  in  remembrance  of  Magnus, 
and  in  the  moment  of  regaining  his  mental  balance,  he  felt 
again  satisfied  that  the  intention  of  that  political  potentate 
was  to  make  Miss  Ward,  the  Queen  American  Dollars  of 
Albania,  and  he,  Count  Coste,  the  King. 

"Oh,  it  is  the  same  old  story  of  races  and  religions,"  he 
returned  when  he  had  recovered  himself.  "You  see,  there 
are  the  Greeks — ,  the  Epirotes,  who  want  to  secede  to  the 
mother  country  of  Greece  and  who  are  communicants  of 
the  Greek  Church;  then  there  is  Essad  Pacha,  and  his  Mus- 
sulman followers,  all  Mohammedan,  who  want  to  do  what- 
ever the  Epirotes  don't  want  to  do,  and  then  there  are  the 
Catholic  Albanians  who  are  absolutely  resolved  likewise  to 
oppose  anything  either  the  Greeks  or  the  Mussulmans  pro- 
pose. Then  besides  that,"  he  continued,  as  he  saw  the  in- 
terest with  which  Ward  was  following  him,  "there  are  the 
political  intrigues  of  different  nations  who  have  their  axes 
to  grind." 

"Seems  rather  complicated,  doesn't  it?"  remarked  Ward. 
"Who  is  the  master  of  the  situation;  that  is,  who  is  the 
ruler?" 

Coste  hesitated,  and  wished  for  Magnus  to  come  to  advise 
him  what  to  say,  but  after  a  moment's  reflection,  concluded 
that  there  would  be  no  harm  in  enlightening  the  (as  he 
thought  very  probable)  prospective  father-in-law  of  the  first 
King  of  Albania. 

"The  powers  haven't  as  yet  appointed  one,"  he  explained. 
"The  country  is  still  under  military  control  by  joint  agree- 
ment. I  understand  that  to  start  the  new  kingdom  they 
will  guarantee  a  bond  issue  of  fifty  million  lire  which,  con- 
sidering it  is  only  ten  million  dollars  in  your  money,  seems 
to  be  a  small  sum  to  initiate  a  government  for  two  millions 
of  people." 

"Yes,?>  confirmed  the  Colonel.  "That's  only  about  five 
dollars  a  head.  But  I  suppose  the  people  are  resourceful 


32  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

of  themselves,  are  they  not?  We  started  our  American  gov- 
ernment on  nothing  but  promises  and  without  a  nickel  in 
the  treasury." 

"Alas,  no.  The  Albanians  are  not  like  the  Americans. 
They  have  been  so  long,"  returned  Coste,  now  finding  him- 
self in  smoother  water,  "under  the  despotic  rule  of  the  Turk 
that  they  hate  all  forms  of  government,  and  nearly  every 
family  wants  to  be  a  law  unto  itself.  It  is  a  country  where 
the  murderer  is  praised,  but  where  even  the  petty  thief  is 
shot.  They  are  a  fierce  lot  of  brigands,  all  of  them;  but  I 
am  sure  that  with  the  right  sort  of  government  they  could 
be  built  up  into  a  splendid  little  self-sustaining  nation." 

"But  how  does  it  happen,"  asked  Ward,  "that  a  coun- 
try so  near  progressive  Italy  should  be  so  backward?  Even 
the  rule  of  the  Turk  wouldn't  stop  their  development  if  they 
had  any  enterprise  in  them." 

"Granted,"  returned  Coste,  "but  we,  even,  have  some 
parts  of  Italy  that  are  not  further  advanced  than  the  best 
parts  of  Albania.  Then,  it  is  a  very  mountainous  country 
and  grazing  is  preferred  to  farming,  and  there  has  been  ab- 
solutely no  attention  paid  to  the  possible  mineral  wealth. 
Some  of  the  Epirotes  are  extremely  progressive,  and  by  go- 
ing to  Egypt  and  Russia  and  even  remoter  parts  of  the 
world  have  accumulated  vast  fortunes.  Some  say  that  it  is 
these  rich  Epirotes  who  are  now  fomenting  trouble  again 
in  Albania  so  that  it  may  secede  and  become  a  part  of 
Greece. ' ' 

"Two  million  people  and  ten  millions  of  dollars,"  .  .  . 
murmured  Ward  and  then  inwardly  reflected,  "just  a  fifth 
as  many  Negroes  as  we  have  in  the  United  States  and  only 
about  as  much  as  my  last  annual  income.  Ten  millions 
wouldn't  go  far  in  helping  the  Negro  along  in  America, 
for  every  dollar  of  mere  boost  may  mean  to  the  Colored  Man 
a  push  backward.  But  think  here  of  the  chance,"  he  con- 
tinued, arguing  with  himself,  becoming  oblivious  to  all  else 
about  him.  "Think  of  only  fifty  million  lire  guaranteed  by 
the  powers.  .  .  .  Supposing  that  I  should  add  another  fifty, 
yes,  a  hundred,  two  hundred  million  lire,  to  that  amount 


ALBANIA  33 

and  take  a  part  in  its  game  of  politics.  Would  it  be  of  any 
use  and  permanent  value  to  that  newly  created  nation  in 
its  struggle  for  that  neutral  independence?  .  .  .  Would  it 
not  mean  perhaps  eventually  that  some  way  could  be  found 
to  mold  them  into  a  Republic  fashioned  after  American 
ideas?" 

The  old  man's  mind  ran  riot  with  the  greatness  of  the  op- 
portunity. It  was  simply  colossal !  ...  To  what  better  use 
could  money  be  put  than  starting  a  new  nation  off  on  the 
real  American  road  of  political  success,  although  far  re- 
moved and  remote  from  the  land  of  its  benefactor. 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead  as  he  glanced 
toward  where  the  green  ribbon  of  the  Grand  Canal  mean- 
dered out  into  the  sea,  reflecting  the  cupola  of  San  Georgiani. 
Then  turning  to  Coste,  he  slowly  asked: 

"And  bloodshed — has- there  been  much  yet?" 

"Unfortunately,  yes.  The  Epirotes  recently  killed  a  few 
hundred  at  Koritza  and  burned  about  twenty  villages.  About 
five  thousand  people  are  homeless.  Then  they  are  shooting 
even  at  the  schools  and  the  armed  factions  seem  to  be  pre- 
paring for  general  racial  attacks  and  counter  attacks  on  all 
three  sides." 

"And  a  good  government  would  stop  all  this,  would  it 
not?"  asked  Ward. 

"Yes,"  responded  Coste. 

"Well,  why  don't  the  powers  make  a  Republic  instead  of 
a  kingdom  out  of  Albania?"  queried  the  old  man. 

"Ah,  that  I  cannot  tell,"  responded  Coste,  with  a  polite 
shrug  of  the  shoulders.  "No  one  can  divine  the  aim  of  po- 
litical intrigue,  unless  he  be  right  in  its  midst,  and  even 
then  one  knows  little  about  it." 

"And  who  is  to  be  King  then?"  asked  Ward. 

Coste  looked  out  toward  the  sea  and  his  voice  said: 

"I  don't  know." 

But  in  his  heart  the  answer  came: 

"It  is  I — I  who  will  be  King;  and  your  daughter,  .  .  . 
whom  I  love,  shall  be  my  Queen." 


34  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 


V 

A  CHANCE  OF  RIVALRY 

They  did  not  even  anchor  at  Durazzo.  Only  the  men  went 
ashore  and  that  for  only  a  very  short  time,  but  what  Ward 
saw  rent  his  heart  with  pity.  Never  before  could  he  have 
realized  that  suffering,  poverty,  and  misery  could  exist 
among  men  noble  in  appearance. 

"Yes,"  he  remarked  to  Coste  when  they  returned  to  the 
yacht,  "all  that  these  people  need  is  government — good  gov- 
ernment— the  sort  that  has  made  America  great.  Men  with 
such  physique,  with  such  manly  bearing  and  independent 
manners  are  not  intended  for  poverty  and  misery.  You 
are  right  when  you  said  that  they  have  been  ground  down 
by  the  Turks.  You  are  right,"  he  repeated,  striking  his 
hand  down  on  the  taffrail,  "but  supposing  that  the  govern- 
ment which  the  powers  establish  for  them  won't  prove  just? 
Supposing  the  king  should  be  crooked  or  weak,  won't  they 
be  just  as  badly  off?" 

"Yes,"  responded  Coste. 

"Do  you  know  just  how  the  powers  intend  to  unite  the 
different  factions?" 

"Ah,  no,"  responded  Coste.  "As  I  said  before,  I  am 
not  in  the  secret  of  things;  but  if  I  were  I  should  recom- 
mend as  you  have  ir.iggested :  giving  them  a  government  as 
near  like  that  of  America  as  possible." 

"Yes,"  commented  Ward.  "I  suppose  that  after  all 
things  could  be  so  shaped  as  to  give  them  a  government 
like  ours  except  that  the  President,  as  King,  would  hold 
office  for  life.  Wouldn't  it  be  possible  to  have  a  King 
whose  office  would  die  with  him  without  descending  to  his 
heir?" 

"We  have,  in  a  measure,  that  condition  now  prevailing 
in  Austria,"  responded  Coste.  "Prince  Ferdinand,  if  he 
ascends  the  throne,  as  he  probably  will  after  the  death  of 
Emperor  Fran/  Joseph,  will  only  hold  the  imperial  office  for 


A  CHANCE  OF  RIVALRY  35 

life,  and  after  his  death,  the  descent  will  not  carry  down 
the  succession  of  the  throne  to  his  children  as  they  are 
inhibited  from  the  imperial  eligibility  by  reason  of  their 
mother  being  a  morganatic  wife." 

"Well,  who  then  will  succeed  Emperor  Joseph?"  asked 
Ward. 

"Presumably  the  oldest  son  of  Ferdinand's  brother." 

"Well,  there  you  see,  the  rank  still  descends  in  the  same 
family,"  and  a  puzzled  expression  came  over  his  face, 
clearing  up  as  he  continued: 

"You  see,  there  is  where  the  trouble  lays,  the  creation  of 
a  caste  of  nobility  and  the  perpetuation  of  that  caste.  Now, 
it  wouldn  't  be  so  bad  if  we  could  have  kingdoms  and 
empires  as  Napoleon  established  them,  which  would  reform 
political  work  and  then  destroy  themselves  by  the  very 
heaviness  of  their  attempts  to  crush."  He  tossed  away  his 
cigar  and  commented. 

"But  as  far  as  poor  little  Albania  is  concerned,  I  think 
its  only  safety  lies  in  making  a  Republic  out  of  itself." 

"Your  American  Republic  is  a  great  inspiration  to  the 
whole  world,"  remarked  Coste,  with  sincerity  ringing  in 
every  word,  "but  do  you  know,  we  Italians,  studying  Africa 
very  closely  and  paying  for  strips  of  it  with  our  blood, 
wonder  at  your  attempt  in  Liberia  in  trying  to  make  a 
Republic  out  of  the  Black  Men." 

Ward  shook  his  head  slowly  as  he  returned. 

"Yes,  that  was  perhaps  a  mistake,  but  you  have  different 
stuff  among  those  Albanians." 

The  yacht  was  now  well  out  at  sea  and  the  two  men 
stood  for  a  long  time  and  silently  looked  at  the  receding 
coast  line. 

"You  Americans  are  almost  over-sympathetic,  political- 
ly," remarked  Coste. 

"Well,  we  ought  to  be,  for  we  ourselves  have  been  favored 
politically  as  has  perhaps  no  other  great  nation." 

"One  of  your  American  millionaires  has  founded  a  school 
in  Albania  which  appears  to  be  doing  much  good." 

"Yes,    our   guide   yesterday    told   me    of   the    institution. 


36  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

I  know  the  donor  well  and  must  write  to  commend  him  on 
his  philanthrophy.  It  is  well  that  we  do  our  foreign  mis- 
sionary work  near  home  as  well  as  far  from  it.  I  have 
been  much  interested  in  Negro  institutional  work  and  then 
they  got  me  interested  in  the  vice-commission's  efforts.  The 
thought  occurred  to  me  yesterday  that  those  Albanians  are 
entitled  to  their  tithe  of  charity  more  than  any  people  I 
have  yet  known." 

"I  am  glad  that  you  feel  that  way,"  warmly  commended 
Coste,  "for  a  man  of  your — your — influence  could  do  a 
great  work  among  them  and  help  greatly  toward  the  re- 
demption of  an  ancient  and  still  noble  race." 

Ward  did  not  take  the  personal  reference  to  himself  as 
a  compliment.  He  stood  and  reflected  with  his  eyes  still 
fixed  upon  the  narrowing  edge  of  shore  and  the  gloomy 
mountains  beyond. 

Then  he  turned,  leaning  his  back  against  the  rail,  and 
plunging  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  said  in  a  voice  whose 
words  seemed  to  measure  themselves  with  the  churn  of  the 
turbine  beneath  them — a  voice  that  came  particularly 
clear — clear  as  if  from  a  person  calling  over  the  calm  and 
silent  water,  although  the  rush  of  the  waves  was  loud  about 
them. 

"We  are  never  too  old  to  commence  great  works  of 
charity,  young  man.  I  am  going  to  try  to  do  something 
for  that  decadent  country.  Will  you  try  to  help  me?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Coste,  and  he  felt  strangely  drawn 
toward  the  old  man  in  whom  every  sympathy  seemed  to  be 
suddenly  awakened.  Then  Coste 's  face  for  a  moment 
darkened  as  he  thought  of  Magnus,  and  he  again  condemned 
himself  for  becoming  a  part  to  the  conspiracy,  whatever  it 
was.  But,  as  he  looked  back  over  the  ribbon  of  coast 
with  the  beetling  mountains  piling  up  one  after  the  other 
above  it,  ambition  surged  with  the  blood  coursing  through 
his  heart,  and  his  brow  lifted  higher  as  he  gazed  again  on 
the  land  of  which,  in  his  fancy,  he  might  some  day  be  King. 

The  Duchess  with  Athena  and  Cornelia  came  toward  them. 

"Did  you  know,"   asked  Athena   of   Coste,   "that   there 


A  CHANCE  OF  RIVALRY  37 

are  to  be  others  join  our  party  at  Corfu?  Two  gentlemen, 
an  ex- Austrian  ambassador  and  a  German  gentleman  who 
knows  all  about  Greece." 

"Yes,"  remarked  Coste,  and  then  remained  silent  as 
though  he  feared  that  he  might  by  some  word  betray  the 
fact  that  it  was  at  his  instigation  and  at  the  command  of 
Magnus  that  he  had  had  his  mother  obtain  for  Magnus  and 
another,  both  strangers  to  Ward,  an  invitation  to  join  them 
at  Corfu  for  the  Grecian  cruise.  Again  his  heart  rebelled 
at  the  remembrance  that  he  had  entered  into  the  irrevocable 
service  of  Magnus;  then  it  lightened  at  the  thought  that 
undoubtedly  Magnus  was  joining  them  at  Corfu  after 
making  a  hurried  survey  of  the  political  conditions  in  Al- 
bania really  in  Coste 's  own  interest. 

"It  is  a  pity  that  there  are  not  more,  for  there  is  much 
room  to  spare  and  I  always  seem  to  enjoy  the  yacht  best 
when  it  is  filled  up,"  said  Ward. 

"Yes,"  remarked  Coste  as  his  eye  ran  up  the  long  length 
of  the  deck.  "A  private  yacht  of  these  dimensions  really 
belongs  to  those  of  kingly  rank,"  and  then  as  the  old  man 
turned  his  gaze  upon  him,  his  embarrassment  was  so  ob- 
vious as  to  merely  bring  the  words: 

"I  suppose  that  is  the  way  you  measure  the  appropriate- 
ness of  things  in  your  circles  of  nobility.  But,  do  you  know, 
the  poorest  sort  of  a  decent  Albanian  would  be  as  welcome 
a  guest  in  this  yacht  as  a  King,  if  he  pleased  the  rest  of  the 
company. ' ' 

There  was  a  pause  before  Coste,  in  a  desire  to  change 
the  conversation,  remarked. 

"Then  there  will  be  ....  altogether  for  the  cruise,  you 
and  your  daughter,  my  mother  and  sister,  the  two  new- 
comers at  Corfu,  and  myself — seven  in  all." 

"And  perhaps  we  shall  be  joined  at  Piraeus  by  the  son 
of  an  old  American  friend,  Timothy  O'Rourke,  a  chap  who 
has  been  in  the  Balkans  getting  material  for  a  book  on  the 
Balkan  War.  He  is  famed  as  an  author  and  now  writes  par- 
ticularly on  war  subjects;  you  will  find  some  of  his  books  in 
the  library.  I  have  always  admired  his  writings  and  when 


38  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

I  learned  from  his  correspondence  in  the  newspapers  that 
he  was  still  in  Greece,  I  cabled  him  to  join  our  party,  and  to 
this  he  responded  that  he  would  do  so,  if  possible." 

"So  that  will  make  eight  persons  in  all;  three  women 
and  five  gentlemen,"  said  Coste  reflectively,  as  though 
measuring  up  any  chance  of  rivalry  for  the  heart  of  Athena, 
and  he  sighed  deeply  ....  as  he  turned  to  pace  up  and 
down  the  length  of  the  deck. 


A  message  from  Magnus  sent  regrets  that  he  and  the 
other  invited  guest  would  be  delayed  for  a  day  before  they 
could  join  the  party  at  Corfu,  and  as  the  message  was  passed 
around  from  one  to  another,  Athena  remarked : 

"The  delay  will  give  us  a  chance  to  see  something  of 
Corfu.  Years  ago  I  remember  reading  a  romance  in  which 
the  hero  came  down  here  in  search  of  a  cure  for  consump- 
tion, and  ever  since  then  I  have  been  interested  in  Corfu." 

"Corfu  is  really  a  wonderful  place,"  remarked  the 
Duchess,  "there  are  very  pretty  motor  drives  all  about  the 
island,  built  under  the  British  administration." 

Coste  was  glad  of  the  delay,  for  it  would,  he  thought, 
give  him  something  of  a  chance  to  be  alone  with  Athena. 
He  therefore  so  arranged  the  party  that,  after  motoring 
about,  he  and  Athena  were  the  last  to  follow  up  to  the  top 
of  the  castle. 

It  was  an  ecstatic  scene;  the  high  facades  and  sloping 
roofs  of  the  high  buildings  of  the  town  closely  blocked  and 
squared,  fringed  in  on  one  side  by  the  gleam  of  cypress 
groves  and  beyond  by  the  indigo  of  the  sea  with  the  tide 
lapping  in  from  the  glowing  serpentine  length  of  the 
mountains  opposite,  with  here  and  there  a  felucca  turning 
its  colored  sail  to  the  wind. 

Deeply  affected  by  the  beauty  beneath  and  beyond  her, 


AT  CORFU  39 

Athena  turned  suddenly  to  find  Coste's  burning  eyes  gazing 
deep  into  hers.  .  .  .  She  flushed  uneasily  and  threw  her 
pose  from  one  limb  to  another  as  she  looked  down  directly 
beneath  her  to  the  cragged  rocks  of  the  castle's  base.  The 
bell  in  the  square  church  tower  beneath  pealed  out,  and  she 
waited  until  the  full  stroke  of  the  hour  was  struck  before 
she  again  glanced  toward  him,  but  avoiding  the  fullness  of 
his  gaze.  Yes,  he  was  handsome;  that  she  admitted  to  her- 
self, and  brave — there  could  be  no  question  of  that — his 
eyes  had  a  thrill  and  a  light  in  them,  a  depth  of  fire  that 
affected  her  strangely — she  did  not  know  how — only  that 
she  felt  that  he  should  not  look  at  her  that  way.  She  had 
never  known  an  American  to  ever  look  at  her  so  deeply,  .  .  . 
even  on  the  longest  sort  of  an  acquaintance,  and  her  dignity 
was  somewhat  perturbed  as  she  sensed,  although  she  still 
avoided  his  glance,  that  he  was  waiting  to  repeat  that  soul 
gazing,  as  the  thought  for  the  moment  occurred  to  her.  But 
casually  calling  attention  to  some  part  of  the  sea  view  as 
they  turned  to  go,  his  formal  reassuring  voice  put  a  new 
interpretation  on  the  incident,  and  she  merely  dismissed 
further  reflection,  with  the  final  thought. 

"Ah.  These  Italian  noblemen  are  a  pecular  lot,  and  per- 
haps rather  vain  of  the  beauty  of  their  eyes. ' ' 

But  as  they  made  their  way  down  from  the  castle,  she 
was  relieved  to  find  that  Coste  no  longer  attempted  to  gaze 
into  her  eyes,  and  in  her  innocent  way  almost  felt  inclined 
to  censure  herself  for  having  apparently  misjudged  his  con- 
duct. She  commenced  to  take  a  new  and  vivid  interest  in 
him,  admired  his  soldierly  bearing,  his  clear  bronzed  com- 
plexion, the  perfect  outline  of  his  features,  the  metallic 
clearness  of  his  voice,  and  the  grace  of  his  manners. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  flirt  in  Athena.  She  knew 
that  sometime  she  would  marry  and  she  felt  that  all  that 
she  had  of  herself  in  thought  or  action — every  detail  of  her 
woman's  dignity  should  be  delivered  intact  and  wholesomely 
preserved  to  the  man  whom  fate  and  law  would  eventually 
decree  hers.  This  she  had  learned  from  her  mother  and  to 
this  she  held  as  to  a  religious  precept  which  daily  prayers, 


40  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

with  thoughts  of  her  mother,  kept  ever  alive.  Not  that  she 
was  unemotional  or  devoid  of  sentiment,  for  there  were  none 
whose  natures  could  more  thrill  to  love,  the  great  symphony 
of  nature.  But  she  simply  looked  upon  herself  as  being  but 
a  part  of  some  final  integral  whole  into  which  she  would  only 
perfectly  and  ultimately  fit  by  safeguarding  herself  from 
all  taint  of  a  sentiment  that  might  destroy  the  whole  peace 
of  her  future  wellbeing. 

Hence,  she  considered  all  men  in  a  matter  of  fact  way. 
She  felt  that  she  would  never  marry  during  the  lifetime  of 
her  father — that  she  belonged  to  him — every  hour  of  her 
life.  When  he  had  passed  away,  as  had  her  mother — well, 
then,  alone  she  would  be  free  to  become  a  wife  and  a 
mother — for  to  Athena,  with  her  normal,  naturally  devel- 
oped nature,  there  would  be  no  use  in  marrying  if  she 
would  not  bear  children.  She  knew  that  her  father  was 
rich — one  of  the  richest  men  in  all  America — from  what 
she  had  read  of  his  income  tax  in  the  papers — an  income 
tax  on  ten  millions  of  dollars  income  a  year.  She  presumed 
that  the  money  would  be  hers  and  that  was  an  added  reason 
why  she  would  need  a  husband — to  take  care  of  the  money, 
that  good  might  be  done  with  it,  for  woman-like,  she 
dreaded  the  responsibilities  of  great  wealth. 

As  she  and  Coste  walked  down  along  the  great  walls  of 
the  fortress,  there  was  some  thought  of  this  money  respon- 
sibility entering  her  mind.  She  supposed  that  she  was  what 
they  would  call  in  Europe  an  American  heiress.  .  .  .  She 
had  read  of  American  girls  selling  themselves,  money  and 
all,  for  titles,  and  she  recoiled  from  the  thought.  She  was 
too  American  to  reconcile  her  woman's  dignity  with  a  base 
barter  and  exchange  for  mere  title  of  lineage. 

"But  what,"  reflected  she,  as  they  walked  along,  "what 
if  by  the  measure  of  fate  she  was  to  be  linked  up  with  a 
man  such  as  he  who  now  walked  beside  her?  Would  there 
be  happiness?" 

And  her  heart  found  its  answer  as  she  looked  ahead  at 
the  tall  form  of  her  father  striding  along  with  his  familiar 
step. 


AT  CORFU  41 

"No.  Only  in  a  man  like  her  father — a  man  of  his 
people  and  his  traditions  would  she  find  that  happiness 
continued,  which  she  had  known  in  the  simple,  truthful 
life  of  her  own  home." 

"Corfu  doesn't  seem  much  like  a  Greek  town,  does  it?" 
asked  Coste,  as  they  continued  their  walk  over  the  Es- 
planade. 

"I  don't  know.  You  see,  I  am  going  to  Greece  for  the 
first  time." 

"Ah,"  returned  Coste,  "for  the  first  time?  I  imagined 
that  you  must  have  been  there  before.  I  don't  know  why." 

"0!"  she  exclaimed,  "perhaps  it  may  be  because  of  my 
name.  You  see,  my  mother,  before  she  married  my  father, 
was  a  teacher  of  Greek  and  Latin  in  a  small  American  col- 
lege. She  had  never  been  to  Greece  but  was  fascinated  with 
its  history  and  so  she  named  me  Athena.  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  both  father  and  I  have  oftimes  been  almost  ashamed  of 
the  name — it  seemed  so  odd  and  un-American — ,  but  dear 
mother  enthused  both  father  and  me  with  a  real  love  for 
Greece — and  we  have  each  of  us  been  looking  forward  to 
this  cruise  with  great  anticipation." 

"Your  father  took  considerable  interest  in  the  Alban- 
ians," Coste  allowed  himself  to  say,  without  for  the  moment 
thinking  what  it  would  lead  up  to. 

"Ah,  yes.  The  two  other  guests  whom  your  mother  sug- 
gested inviting,  are  coming  over  from  that  country,  aren't 
they?" 

"Yes.  They  seem  to  have  gone  beyond  Koritza  on  some 
mission,"  he  responded,  and  then  in  a  preoccupied  way, 
asked : 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  European  politics?" 

''No.     Not  even  much  about  American  politics." 

"Well,  in  Albania  they  are  looking  for  a  King  and  a 
Queen,  for  the  kingdom  has  just  been  constituted." 

"Looking  for  a  King  and  a  Queen?  Why,  how  roman- 
tic— almost  like  a  fairy  tale,  isn't  it?"  laughed  Athena. 
"It  must  be  then  a  case  of  the  office  seeking  the  man — as 
father  says — seeking  the  man,  .  .  .  and  the  woman  too," 
and  then  she  impulsively  added: 


42  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"I  shouldn't  think  that  it  would  be  hard  among  such 
fine  families  as  you  have  in  Venice  to  have  a  variety  to 
choose  from.  Now,  you,  for  example — how  would  you  like 
it?"  she  continued  in  impulsive  merriment.  "How  would 
you  like  to  be  King?" 

He  turned  and  suddenly  flashed  a  thrilling  light  out  from 
the  depths  of  his  dark  eyes  and  murmured  so  low  that  she 
barely  heard  him: 

"I  would  give  my  life  to  be  King  of  the  most  wretched 
of  lands  if — if  ....  my — the  Queen  were  to  be.  .  .  .  ' 

She  understood  his  declaration  and  the  merriment  on  her 
face  vanished  in  an  expression  of  fright  at  the  thought  of 
its  complete  utterance,  but  raising  her  hand  in  a  gesture 
of  protest,  she  still  suffered  herself  to  be  escorted  by  the 
Count  back  to  the  rest  of  the  party. 


VII 
THE  KINGDOM 

Magnus  and  Herr  Haiden,  the  other  invited  guest,  put 
in  their  appearance  a  little  earlier  than  expected;  Magnus 
heavy  and  elegantly  ponderous  as  ever;  his  companion  sur- 
prisingly handsome. 

By  the  warm  introductions  of  Coste,  the  two  were  made 
perfectly  at  home,  and  after  a  bath  and  a  change  of  linen, 
came  out  on  deck  to  laughingly  recount  their  brief  but  ex- 
citing adventures  in  Albania. 

"That  country  is  simply  irresistible,"  remarked  Magnus. 

"To  me  it  is  as  irresistible  as  the  tobacco  habit.  I  beg 
that  you  ladies  will  forgive  me  if  I  appear  to  be  continually 
smoking  in  your  presence,  but  the  fact  is  that  this  is  not 
a  cigarette  at  all,"  and  he  held  the  porcelain  out  daintily 
before  him.  "The  doctors  absolutely  forbade  my  smoking 
some  months  ago,  so  I  had  this  imitation  cigarette  made  of 
hollow  china  in  which,  from  time  to  time,  my  man  puts  a 
little  menthol  mixture.  Thus  I  am  able  to  deceive  myself 


THE  KINGDOM  43 

most  delightfully  and  at  times  forget  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  tobacco,"  and  he  laughed  a  long,  low,  deep  chested 
laugh,  whose  contagion  went  around  the  whole  group. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  "Albania  is  simply  irresistible.  I 
have  been  over  it  continually,  time  and  time  again,  and 
every  visit  I  make  I  swear  will  be  the  last — its  a  sort  of 
habit  with  me,  as  I  suggested,  only  I  can't  get  away  from 
it  like  tobacco.  And  now  that  they  have  made  a  Kingdom 
out  of  what  was  practically  ancient  Epirus,  its  political 
fascination  makes  it  all  the  more  irresistible." 

"In  your  travels  in  Albania,  have  you  ever  found  any 
indication  of  natural  resources?"  asked  Ward. 

"Yes,  potentially  tremendous — great,"  answered  Magnus, 
"colossally  rich  in  possibilities.  Their  exports  of  live  stock, 
wool,  timber  and  cereals  could  be  increased  twenty  fold  in 
a  very  short  time.  Then  there  are  the  running  waters  and 
the  underground  rivers  and  the  deep  mountain  lakes  at 
high  elevation,  all  of  which,  by  tunneling,  would  give 
abundant  water  power  for  the  development  of  the  mineral 
wealth ;  and  all  this  right  in  the  very  heart  of  Europe, 
waiting  development. ' ' 

"And  what  about  the  people?"  asked  Ward. 

"About  the  same  as  everywhere  else,  except  rather  more 
ferocious,  brave  even,  if  you  will,  very  jealous  of  individual 
rights,  but  a  handsome,  warlike,  though  uncouth  people, 
with  a  decided  appreciation  of  money.  As  soon  as  they 
find  it  will  be  to  their  advantage  to  support  a  government, 
they  will  do  so  in  real  earnest.  Don't  you  think  that  that 
about  expresses  the  case?"  asked  Magnus,  turning  to 
Haiden,  who  stood  attentively  listening. 

"This  is  my  first  visit  to  Albania,"  responded  Haiden, 
"but  I  was  indeed  deeply  impressed  with  the  possibilities 
depending  upon  the  people.  They  are,"  he  continued  im- 
pressively, "as  purely  and  directly  descended  as  any 
modern  race  can  be  from  the  ancient.  They  come  direct 
from  the  Illyrians  and  the  Epirotes,  and  if  blood  and  race 
count  for  anything,  they  ought  to  eventually  grow  into  a 
nation  of  great  use  to  the  world  in  spite  of  their  small 
number. ' ' 


44  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

They  all  remained  silent  waiting  for  him  to  continue 
There  was  a  masterly  tone  in  his  voice,  a  dispassionate 
control  of  his  thought  and  an  inviting  expression  of  th< 
face.  He  held  his  listeners  by  the  very  spell  of  his  per 
sonality ;  handsome  in  bearing  and  feature,  strong  in  wore 
and  gesture. 

"I  did  not  know  that  Albania  really  was  so  interesting,' 
remarked  the  Duchess.  Athena,  looking  at  Haiden  with 
the  simple  steadfastness  of  a  child,  urged: 

"Please  tell  us  some  more  about  Albania." 

He  returned  her  glance  only  for  a  second,  although  she 
still  continued  to  look  at  him. 

"Ah,"  he  remarked  gallantly.  "My  companion  knows 
much  more  about  Albania  than  do  I,"  and  he  gave  a  curl 
military  gesture  towards  Magnus. 

"Not  at  all,  Colonel,"  returned  Magnus.  "I  only  kno\* 
the  body — the  material  body — of  Albania  as  evidenced  ir 
its  commercial,  mining  and  industrial  possibilities — bu1 
you — you  know  its  spirit  for  you  are  a  master  in  that  realm. ' 

Haiden  lightly  raised  his  hands  as  if  the  compliment 
were  to  him  distasteful,  then  after  a  pause  continued : 

"All  I  feel  warranted  in  saying  is  that  if  the  Powers 
really  will  keep  their  hands  off  Albania  and  protect  its 
neutrality,  there  is  no  reason  why  within  a  decade  or  so  it 
may  not  make  very  remarkable  advance,  for,  as  has  been 
hinted,  as  soon  as  the  different  racial  and  religious  factions 
see  that  it  is  to  their  advantage  to  stand  by  an  honest  and 
efficient  government,  they  will  give  up  their  differences  and 
unite." 

"They  ought,  at  all  events  to  have  their  chance,"  re- 
marked Ward  in  a  tone  that  brought  Haiden 's  large  blue 
eyes  in  a  direct  focus  with  his  own. 

"Yes.  They  ought  to  have  their  chance,"  repeated 
Haiden  slowly. 

"And  they  will,"  added  Magnus,  sententiously. 

"It  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  a  big  missionary  movement 
which  is  needed  to  get  things  started  there,  doesn't  it?" 
suggested  Ward. 


THE  EOCK  OF  SAPPHO  46 

"Yes,"  Magnus  hastened  to  approve.  "A  missionary 
movement — a  real  crusade,"  and  he  turned  his  phantom 
cigaratte  under  his  moustache  caressingly. 

''But,  ladies,  you  are  all  standing,"  remarked  Haiden. 
"May  I  not  have  the  chairs  brought  for  you?" 

When  the  chairs  came,  Coste  noticed  that  in  spite  of  his 
efforts,  Athena  became  seated  beside  Haiden  and  there  was 
a  twinge  of  jealousy  in  his  quick  Latin  heart  as  he  re- 
flected : 

"Well,  at  all  events,  he  is  not  noble  even  with  all  his 
accomplished  personality  and  will,  therefore,  not  be  eligible 
as  the  King  of  Albania."  And  then  he  began  to  wonder 
who  Haiden  really  was. 


VIII 
THE  ROCK  OF  SAPPHO 

"We  understand,"  remarked  the  Duchess  to  Haiden  as 
tea  was  being  served  on  deck,  "that  you  know  all  about 
Greece.  I  trust  that  you  will  not  think  that  it  is  on  that 
account  that  you  have  been  invited  to  join  the  party,  but 
my  son's  very  dear  friend,"  she  continued,  smiling  towards 
Magnus,  as  she  still  addressed  Haiden,  "tells  us  that  there 
is  no  one  who  understands  the  real  spirit  of  ancient  Greece 
better  than  you  as  it  today  speaks  out  of  its  ruin." 

"I  presume,"  laughingly  returned  Haiden,  "that  Greece 
must  be  to  me  what  Albania  is  to  the  Baron,"  and  he 
tipped  his  chin  towards  Magnus. 

"It  will  be  a  great  treat,"  joined  in  Ward,  "to  have  Mr. 
Haiden  explain  things  to  us  as  we  go  along.  My  daughter 
and  I  the  other  day  were  saying  that  there  is  one  service 
in  travel  that  can  never  be  purchased:  the  service  of 
properly  explaining  the  wherefore  of  things.  I  trust  that 
it  will  not  be  an  imposition  upon  Mr.  Haiden  if  I  start  right 
in  by  asking  him  if  he  knows  what  promontory  that  strange 
maroon  colored  cliff  is  just  yonder?" 


46  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"I  am  glad  that  you  ask  me,"  responded  Haiden,  "for 
I  was  aching  to  tell  something  about  that  wonderful  cliff. 
It  is  none  other  than  the  Rock  of  Sappho.  Do  you  know," 
he.  continued,  leaning  over  the  rail  and  looking  at  the 
sinister  appearing  headland,  toward  which  they  were  rapidly 
steaming,  "from  my  childhood  on,  Sappho  of  all  personages 
of  antiquity,  has  interested  me  most.  I  never  have  been 
able  to  believe  that  she  was  a  libertine.  To  me  she  has 
always  been  the  sweet  singing,  pure-minded  poetess  of  an 
age  of  Pagan  lust.  I  think  that  one  reason  why  I  followed 
my  Greek  so  attentively  in  the  Gymnasium  was  just  because 
of  the  fragrance  of  her  poetry  which  excited  me  to  perhaps 
an  almost  thorough  study  of  the  ancient  Greek.  As  a  school 
lad  I  once  tried  to  compose  a  poem  in  the  language  of 
Sappho  herself,  describing  this  very  rock,  writing  it  under 
what  I  thought  to  be  a  real  inspiration  when  I  first  beheld 
this  promontory.  But  I  have  long  ceased  any  indulgence  in 
poetic  expression." 

He  paused,  and  then  continued: 

"It  may  interest  you  to  know  that  it  is  claimed  that 
this  Isle  of  Levkas  was  really  Homer's  Ithaca,  and  this 
Leucadia  Rock,  where  Sappho,  to  end  her  unhappy  love, 
leaped  into  the  sea,  is  on  its  southwest  coast.  But,  the 
modern  island  of  Ithaca  lies  over  yonder,"  and  he  pointed 
to  some  low  lying  mountain  cut  off  by  the  drop  curtain  of 
other  mountains  beyond,  with  the  glimpse  of  villages  built 
high  up  on  terraced  slopes. 

They  all  stood  and  looked,  held  by  the  charm  of  the 
historic  surroundings,  the  nervous  tinkling  of  the  bridge 
bell  alone  breaking  the  silence.  Then  Haiden  pointed 
toward  Oxia  Island,  the  scene  of  the  famous  battle  of 
Lepanto. 

"See  how  its  mountains  reach  up,  with  ribs'  of  valleys 
between !  It  is  entirely  uninhabited,  except  for  a  few  wild 
goats,  whose  haunts  are  even  so  secure  as  to  escape  the  rifles 
of  hungry  sailors,  who  sometimes  go  there  in  the  hope  of 
replenishing  their  larders,"  continued  Haiden.  "There  is 
nothing  to  connect  the  native  savagery  of  Oxia  with  nearby 
civilization,  is  there?"  his  laugh  answering  his  own  question. 


THE  ROCK  OF  SAPPHO  47 

After  awhile,  all  busied  themselves  with  guide  books  and 
the  yacht's  library  and  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage  to 
Patras,  Haiden  was  a  continued  object  of  questions. 

"Now,  you  see  why  you  are  invited,"  heartily  laughed 
Magnus,  but  with  a  deep-mooded  deference  and  attachment 
apparent  but  unexplainable,  as  with  strange  devotion  he 
looked  at  Haiden. 

Late  that  afternoon  they  steamed  into  the  screened  harbor 
of  Patras.  The  pump  of  the  engines  ceased,  and  the  rasp 
of  the  chains  gave  them  their  first  anchorage  on  their 
Grecian  cruise. 

They  went  ashore  along  a  street  with  slovenly  cafes 
advertised  with  such  euphonisms  as  "Cafe  Splendide," 
with  sewer-like  curbs  to  the  sidewalks,  from  which  the  lazy 
sweeping  of  soiled  attendants  removed  but  little  of  the 
filth.  In  these,  dogs  nosed,  dodging  out  from  between  the 
legs  of  the  decrepit,  nondescript,  tramp-looking  men,  who 
worked  away  at  their  beads,  with  hands  fast  behind  them, 
their  backs  and  heads  bent  forward,  incurious  and  unob- 
serving,  a  sad  picture  of  idle  and  soiled  humanity. 

"The  filth  of  this  hotel,"  exclaimed  Haiden,  pointing 
towards  a  tall  hotel,  with  its  sad  imitation  of  a  Parisian 
Boulevard  front,  "is  hardly  to  be  described.  But  when 
Greece  does  wake  up  and  give  good  hotels  to  tourists,  it 
will  become  a  recreation  ground  to  the  whole  world,  for 
nowhere  is  nature  more  brilliant,  nor  the  surroundings  more 
inspiring,  But  the  Greeks  are  going  ahead  fast;  they  are 
getting  out  of  the  lethargy  and  the  misery  of  Turkish  in- 
fluence of  which  you  still  see  indications.  For  example, 
just  look  at  those  big  men  boot-blacks  sprawled  out  before 
their  blacking  kits,  expectantly  awaiting  and  satisfied  with 
only  a  few  leptai,  although  the  vineyards  and  olive  groves 
are  demanding  their  services  at  seven  drachmas  a  day," 

They  visited  the  Castle  for  the  view  of  Grabolina  with 
its  camel-like  hump,  behind  which  spread  out  the  outline 
of  the  empurpled  mountain,  and  then  after  a  hurried  circle 
of  the  noisome  streets,  they  returned  to  the  yacht  to  await 
the  departure  of  the  train  for  Olympia. 


48 

Ward  had  heard  from  his  final  guest  O'Rourke,  who  from 
Athens  had  wired  that  he  would  follow  them  on  down  by 
a  later  train,  joining  them  at  Nauplia,  to  which  point  Ward 
had  previously  telegraphed  that  he  was  sending  the  yacht. 

"I  haven't  been  in  Olympia  for  a  number  of  years," 
remarked  Haiden,  after  they  were  seated  in  their  special 
compartment,  which,  in  its  tawdry  and  soiled  upholstering, 
gave  little  evidence  of  being  any  sort  of  an  approach  to 
the  train  de  luxe  it  was  called.  "I  am  afraid  that  Olympia 
will  prove  a  disappointment  to  you.  There  are  hardly  any 
whole  parts  of  the  ruins  standing  upright  and  it  is  only  by 
strong  imagination  that  you  will  be  able  to  reproduce  the 
ancient  glory  of  Olympia  in  your  own  mind." 

It  was  dark  when  they  arrived  at  the  little  station  and 
were  conducted  by  the  guide  to  a  hotel  on  the  hillside, 
where,  in  the  moonlight,  the  ancient  home  of  the  Olympian 
games  looked  like  a  graveyard  of  close  built  tombs. 

Early  the  next  morning  they  were  up  to  make  their  visit 
to  the  ruins,  Haiden  acting  as  guide. 

"Perhaps  it  was  because  Olympia  was  so  different  from 
the  other  parts  of  Greece  that  it  became  so  attractive  to 
them.  See,  everything  about  us  looks  quite  un-Grecian, 
doesn't  it?  There  are  no  high  rocky  mountains,  no 
stretches  of  red  or  yellow  soil,  just  this  pretty  little  vale 
surrounded  by  pine-clad  hills,  dotted  with  grain  fields,  vine- 
yards, and  olive  groves  with  the  ribbons  of  the  rivers  un- 
winding among  them." 

His  eyes  rested  upon  Kronis  Hill. 

"Do  you  know  what  impresses  me  most  in  Olympia?" 
asked  Haiden,  and  then  when  he  had  their  attention,  ex- 
plained : 

"Look,  there  is  the  hill  of  Kronis,  a  pyramid  of  Nature's 
greatest  time  resisting  form,  a  hill  mound  crowned  with 
pine.  Everything  beneath  it  has  changed — all — all  changed," 
and  he  spread  his  arms  wide  about  him  and  then  again 
pointed  toward  the  hill.  "Alpheos  and  Kladeos  have  time 
and  again  shifted  their  channels;  all  the  cunning  and  craft 
that  man  conceived  in  the  beautiful  precincts  of  Olympia 


THE  ROCK  OF  SAPPHO  49 

as  monuments  to  his  genius  and  wisdom  are  laid  low;  but 
old  Kronis  still  stands.  Only  a  small  part  of  its  tree- 
protected  sides  have  been  washed  or  blown  away.  If  an 
ancient  Greek  could  come  back  to  Olympia  today,  the  only 
thing  that  he  would  recognize  would  be  Kronis.  See  how 
his  tawny  sides  are  burnished  from  the  green  of  the  valley 
beneath  and  by  the  glorious  sun  which  keeps  the  hill  ever 
young. ' ' 

Haiden  led  them  up  to  the  hill  behind  the  hotel  to  show 
them,  as  he  explained,  an  Elis  village. 

There  was  no  pretense  of  streets;  anything  not  fenced 
in  by  the  walls  of  the  houses  themselves  or  by  the  thick 
hedges  of  the  fields  was  a  free  passage  for  man  and  beast. 
The  single  church  was  the  only  building  with  glass-inclosed 
windows;  the  other  houses  had  mere  weather  beaten,  rusty 
hinged  shutters,  with  sashed  timbers  walled  in  with  rough 
stone  of  cemented  masonry. 

The  front  of  the  houses1  was  only  recognized  from  their 
rear  by  verandas,  sometimes  formed  into  a  solid  stone  plat- 
form with  a  winding  step  to  the  second  story,  but  more 
often  simple  wooden  platforms  upheld  by  a  few  upright 
timbers  above  whose  balustrades  the  soft-toned  rugs  of 
Turkish  designs  were  hung  out  for  their  airing  after  the 
night's  use  as  bedding. 

The  roofs  of  the  buildings  were  of  tile,  supported  by  a 
framework  of  cane  and  timbers  blackened  by  the  smoke  of 
lamps  and  candles.  In  one  corner  of  the  single  large  white 
plastered  room  of  each  house  was  found  the  simple  rude 
shrine  of  the  patron  saint  with  a  light  ever  burning  before 
it — ,  the  clear  light  of  olive  oil.  The  floor  of  the  room  was 
of  soft  pine  and  had  been  scrubbed  and  cleaned  until  it 
splintered.  A  long  trough-like  bench,  boarded  below, 
served  as  a  closet  and  above  the  remaining  spaces  of  the 
walls  were  the  few  other  simple  articles  of  household  furni- 
ture. Nearly  every  house  had  its  cradles  springing  from 
iron  frames  from  which  peeped  bright  eyed  infants,  safe 
from  tumbles  by  the  restraining  harness  of  ropes. 

On  the  wall  were  hung  spindle  frames  with  ancient  fire 


60  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

arms  laid  lengthwise  on  pegs.  The  visitors  looked  with 
interest  upon  the  simple  surroundings  with  their  patter 
of  barefooted  children  and  the  cooing  of  babes  as  the 
swarthy,  black-eyed  mothers  brought  them  glasses  of  spring 
water  and  Turkish  sweets. 

"One  would  almost  envy  these  people — their  simple, 
happy  life,"  remarked  Haiden  as  he  showed  them  how  the 
light,  only  entering  from  the  recesses  of  the  deep  set 
windows  above,  made  the  room  cool  and  comfortable  and 
softened  the  pastoral  sounds,  which  came  from  without, 
sweet  and  soothing,  dominated  at  that  moment  with  the 
chime  of  the  church  bell  which  they  could  see  as  they  heard 
it  through  the  open  doorway,  hanging  from  a  tree  trunk 
and  cross  branch. 

Charmed  and  enchanted  with  their  excursion  under  the 
guidance  of  Haiden,  they  took  the  train  to  visit  the  ruins 
of  Messenia,  profiting  by  a  change  of  trains  at  Pyrgos  to 
follow  the  length  of  its  long  principal  street  filled  with 
swarthy,  earnest-looking  men,  just  feeling  the  first  touch  of 
Greek  agricultural  prosperity. 

"Pyrgos,"  explained  Haiden,  "is  becoming  a  very  im- 
portant town  and  is  an  example  of  what  the  Greeks  them- 
selves can  do,  but  even  at  that  you  will  notice  that  the 
shops  are  all  filled  up  with  foreign  goods  and  it  will  be  a 
long  time  before  Greece  can  supply  to  itself  even  a  small 
part  of  all  its  needs  in  the  manufacture  of  its  own  splendid 
raw  products." 

It  was  still  early  in  the  afternoon  when  they  arrived  at 
the  little  station  of  Tsepherimini  from  which  they  were  to 
make  the  excursion  to  the  ancient  ruins  of  Messenia. 

"Tsepherimini  is  certainly  a  long  name,"  said  Ward. 
"Why  doesn't  the  village  pass  an  ordinance  changing  the 
name  to  something  that  won't  take  quite  as  much  time  to 
pronounce  ? ' ' 

Haiden  laughed. 

"It  really  doesn't  sound  so  long  in  Greek,"  said  he. 
"But  you  would  suppose  that  they  would  be  apt  to  do 
anything  in  this  little  town,  because  they  ought  to  have 


THE  ROCK  OF  SAPPHO  61 

American  enterprise  here.  Nearly  every  family  has  had 
one  or  more  members  who  have  gone  to  America  and  who 
have  sent  back  their  money  for  the  upbuilding  of  the  town." 

The  party  took  their  horses  and  hastened  to  proceed  to 
the  monastery  where  they  were  to  spend  the  night,  before 
commencing  the  final  ascent  to  the  ruins. 

"Greek  monks  are  very  hospitable,"  explained  Haiden, 
"but  they  close  their  gates  at  sundown,  and  if  we  do  not 
get  there  by  that  time  we  shall  have  to  camp  out  for  the 
night.  It  would  be  dangerous  in  the  darkness  to  try  to 
get  back  to  the  village  down  over  the  rocky  path. 

They  crossed  a  modern  iron  bridge,  spanning  a  river 
filled  with  a  gurgling,  croaking  chorus  of  monster  bull 
frogs  and  after  an  hour's  ascent  came  to  a  point  with  a 
wonderful  view  of  Mount  Taigetos,  covered  with  snow. 
Eight  villages  lying  in  the  valley  beneath  them  or  in  the 
high  foothills  between  were  mantled  with  green  fields  and 
embowered  in  cypress  groves  that  grew  along  the  glimpses 
of  the  winding  river. 

They  rested  for  a  moment  and  then  pressed  on  towards 
the  shining  sides  of  the  monastery's  walls,  at  which  they 
arrived  as  the  gowned  monks  were  resting  upon  the  plat- 
form lookout,  enjoying  an  evening's  rest  after  their  hard 
day's  labor  in  the  fields. 

A  few  friendly  salutations  with  the  monks  and  they 
stood  waiting  for  the  closing  bell  to  sound,  again  enjoying 
the  wonderful  view,  even  more  wonderful  from  that  higher 
t-levation  than  before. 

Up  from  the  slopes  of  the  still  valley  beneath  came  the 
sound  of  sheep  and  cow  bells,  mingling  with  the  piping 
tones  of  a  shepherd's  flute  sounding  above  the  low  prayers 
of  the  monks.  Then  all  was  lost  in  the  tones  of  the  convent 
bells  echoing  down  into  the  depths  of  the  valley. 

The  monks  disappeared;  only  a  young,  long-haired  at- 
tendant remained,  who,  with  a  springing,  mountain  step, 
led  them  into  the  enclosure  of  the  walls,  and  then  the  heavy 
gates  locked  upon  them. 

They  looked  about  them  curiously  as  there  came  to  them 

4 


52  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

the  songs  of  the  evening  birds  and  the  gurgle  of  the  spring 
which  poured  through  the  midst  of  the  walled  enclosure. 

The  party  dispersed  itself  in  the  spacious,  immaculate 
rooms  "which  opened  out  upon  the  interior  balcony.  A 
simple  repast  of  eggs,  cheese,  bread  and  wine  was  served 
and  as  they  supped  a  quiet  gathered  over  the  convent  only 
broken  by  the  song  of  the  splashing  brook. 

Athena  stepped  out  upon  the  little  creaking  balcony  of 
splintered  pine,  secured  with  iron  supports  to  the  wall  of 
the  monastery  which  looked  down  over  the  chasm  below. 
The  oil  candelabra  threw  out  a  soft  glow  of  light  that 
sought  out  far  and  away  down  into  the  dark  depths  below, 
turning  the  fantastic  rocks  into  weird  goblin  shapes.  She 
stepped  aside  to  avoid  obstructing  the  light  which  streamed 
out  from  behind  her.  As  she  changed  her  position  she 
heard  a  shutter  creak  open  on  its  rusty  hinges  and  then 
there  was  another  stream  of  light  reaching  down  into  the 
valley,  silhouetting  the  straight,  soldierly  form  and  the 
strong  features  of  Haiden,  who  in  a  very  light  voice,  was 
humming  softly  to  himself  but  even  whose  light  vibration 
showed  a  natural  beauty  and  careful  training. 

She  drew  farther  back  into  the  darkness  and  reflected 
upon  the  novelty  of  being  thrown  into  the  company  of  those 
two  splendid  young  men — representing  the  best  of  their 
types  and  nations — Haiden,  the  blond,  blue-eyed  Teuton, 
whose  manner,  grave  yet  inspiriting,  bespoke  courage  un- 
flinching and  well  considered;  and  then  Coste,  the  dark-eyed 
Latin — impulsive  and  brave — dramatically  brave.  Yes.  She 
must  admit  that  they  both  appealed  to  her.  .  .  .  They  had 
too  much  of  the  warm  red  blood  of  youth  and  the  spirit  of 
gentlemen  not  to  produce  some  sort  of  an  impression  upon 
her.  She  tried  to  account  within  herself  as  to  which  she 
preferred,  and  thinking  about  them  both  as  the  call  of  the 
running  stream  came  to  her  ears,  she  fell  asleep. 


MESSENIANS  AND  SPARTANS  53 


IX 
MESSENIANS  AND  SPARTANS 

"I  have  always,  in  my  own  mind,  likened  ancient  Sparta 
to  modern  Germany,"  said  Haiden,  as  they  all  stood  looking 
down  over  the  litter  of  stones,  and  the  ruins  of  broken 
walls.  "Nowadays  every  German  is  forced  to  be  a  soldier 
and  he  takes  pride  in  the  fact  that  crowded  as  he  is  in  the 
center  of  Europe,  he  may  have  to  sometime  take  his  stand 
against  a  very  considerable  part  of  Europe.  And  to  carry 
the  comparison  further,  do  you  think,"  he  asked,  turning 
to  Coste,  "that  one  would  be  justified  in  comparing  the 
Latin  races  to  the  ancient  Messenians?" 

"I  see  no  objection  to  such  a  comparison,"  returned 
Coste  with  a  sudden  flash  in  his  eyes.  "The  Messenians 
were  a  peace-loving  people  who  built  walls  to  defend  them- 
selves— whereas  the  Spartans  were,  as  you  say,  a  soldier 
race  who  loved  war.  I  think  that  the  comparison  is  very 
apt,"  he  added  ironically. 

"Do  you  mean  that  Germany  loves  war?"  returned 
Haiden  somewhat  warmly. 

"Why  not?    Germany  is  continually  preparing  for  war." 

"Oh,  let  us  not  talk  politics,"  interposed  Magnus,  "when 
we  can  enjoy  such  a  view  as  that,"  and  leaning  his  hand 
on  the  saddle  of  his  horse,  he  pointed  down  into  the  valley. 

"You  are  right,"  commended  Haiden.  "Besides,  the 
time  is  too  short  for  war  talk,  for  there  is  only  one  train 
a  day  from  Tsephermini  to  Nauplia  and  we  will  have  all 
that  we  can  do  to  get  back  to  the  station  on  time." 

They  hurriedly  visited  the  ruins  and  then  hastened  to 
take  the  descent.  They  had  had  no  breakfast  and  went  into 
one  of  the  wretched  little  kafema  of  the  village  where  all 
that  was  offered  them  were  lemons,  cheese  and  wine,  but 
after  repeated  urging  and  a  long  search  the  ladies  were 
supplied  with  an  egg  apiece,  all  that  the  town  could  furnish. 

"You   see,"   explained   Haiden,    "Greece   is   still   only   a 


54  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

primitive  agricultural  country  and  the  people  sacrifice  every- 
thing nowadays  to  get  money  to  pay  off  the  indebtedness 
on  their  farms.  I  warrant,  however,  that  you  were  never 
before  in  a  country  where  you  found  such  lemons,"  and  he 
dug  his  white  firm  teeth  into  the  fresh  rind  and  pulp  of  a 
large  lemon.  "See,  you  can  eat  them  whole,  rind  and  all." 

They  waited  in  a  dingy  house — a  sort  of  a  nondescript 
bar  and  village  grocery  store  with  only  a  few  handfuls  of 
provisions  and  a  couple  of  goat  skins  of  resinous  wine  and 
bottles  of  mastiqua  liqueur — and  then  went  on  by  rail  and 
auto  the  wonderful  way  to  Sparta. 

The  comparison  made  by  Haiden  of  the  Germans  as 
Spartans  and  the  Latins  as  Messenians  came  back  to  Athena 
frequently  during  the  voyage  as  she  looked  at  one  or  the 
other.  Yes.  Haiden  did  have  much  of  what  she  had 
imagined  the  Spartans  had  in  their  natures  in  the  days  of 
their  glorious  history — stolid,  self  possessed  and  with  a 
common  sense  brilliancy  that  brought  the  mind  up  to  the 
highest  level  of  independence,  no  matter  under  what  con- 
ditions. And  Coste — he  the  Roman  Adonis  with  his  grace- 
ful physique — as  she  watched  him  among  the  scanty  vestiges 
of  the  famous  city,  beneath  the  great  steeps  of  Tayeg- 
etus,  .  .  .  Yes — he  was  the  dweller  within  the  walled  city, 
with  the  idle  and  uncertain  security  of  bastions  and  turrets; 
but  Haiden — Haiden — he  was  the  man  in  the  open,  care- 
fully saving  his  strength  and  practicing  the  art  of  his 
weapons,  for  the  day  when  the  call  would  come.  His  bones 
and  sinews  made  up  the  wall  of  his  strength  and  just  as 
Messenia  had  fallen  before  those  rural  warriors  of  Sparta, 
would  it  not  be  that  some  day  in  the  great  murderous  clash 
that  the  Spartan  Teuton  would  vanquish  the  Messenian 
Latin  ? 

They  were  enchanted  with  Nauplia  with  its  trim  little 
quay  upon  whose  promenade  the  spray  splashed  in  the 
cooling  breezes  of  the  night.  There  was  a  considerable 
garrison  at  Nauplia  and  both  Coste  and  Haiden  found  a 
new  companionship  in  making  the  acquaintance  of  the 
Greek  officers  who  invited  them  to  inspect  the  barracks. 


THE  MARRIAGE  VASE  55 

The  following  morning  they  drove  up  to  Tyrns  and  upon 
their  return  in  the  afternoon  were  pleased  to  find  the  yacht 
at  length  arrived,  into  whose  clean  comfortable  quarters 
they  found  glad  relief  from  the  abomination  of  the  hotel. 

An  early  start  the  next  morning  brought  them  to  Epi- 
daurus  an  hour  before  the  sun  was  at  its  fiercest.  After 
eating  their  luncheon  from  the  hampers  in  which  the 
yacht's  chef  had  carefully  prepared  it,  they  climbed  about 
the  amphitheatre,  finally  taking  their  seats  high  up  on  the 
last  rows  while  Haiden  recited  some  Greek  verses.  Then 
when  they  called  to  him.  to  sing  something,  he  sang  the  song 
that  all  soldiers  love:  "Die  Beiden  Grenadiere"  and  even 
Coste  applauded. 


X 

THE   MARRIAGE   VASE 

O'Rpurke  had  wired  them  from  Athens  that  he  would 
wait  for  them  there,  that  he  could  not  join  them  at  Nauplia. 

"O'Rourke's  father  was  the  Colonel  of  my  first  regiment 
in  the  Civil  War,"  said  Ward,  "and  was  one  of  the  bravest 
men  I  ever  knew.  He  was  wounded  at  Antietam.  The  son 
looked  very  much  like  him  when  I  last  saw  him  years  ago. 
It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  meet  him  again.  I  helped  to 
get  him  his  appointment  to  the  Academy  and  he  graduated 
at  the  top  of  his  class." 

"I  remember  him  only  vaguely,"  said  Athena.  "I 
hardly  suppose  that  I  should  know  him  if  I  saw  him,  al- 
though when  I  was  quite  a  little  girl  he  created  a  stir  in 
town  when  he  came  back  home  from  West  Point  in  his  grey 
uniform. ' ' 

"I  suppose  that  he  is  what  you  would  call  a  soldier  of 
fortune,"  continued  Ward.  "He  goes  about  the  world  not 
only  as  a  newspaper  correspondent  but  as  a  writer  of 
wonderful  books.  He  also,  I  am  told,  takes  a  hand  from 
time  to  time  in  the  wars  himself,  as  the  issue  appeals  to 


56  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

him.  He  is  certainly  a  remarkable  writer — very  forceful, 
great  powers  of  description,  always  preaching  sermons  on 
the  side  of  the  poor  against  the  rich.  Perhaps  he  may  find 
some  fault  with  us  because  of  mere  money,"  smiled  Ward 
as  Coste  and  Haiden  came  and  joined  them. 

"We  were  just  speaking,"  he  continued,  "about  Mr. 
O'Rourke,  who  joins  our  party  here  at  Athens.  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  find  him  a  very  agreeable  person,  very 
talented  and  thoroughly  American." 

"I  am  certain  that  if  he  is  thoroughly  American  that  it 
will  be  indeed  a  pleasure  to  know  him,"  remarked  Coste 
gallantly,  while  Haiden  merely  said: 

"Authors  are  always  interesting." 

Both  of  the  younger  men  looked  at  Athena,  their  eyes 
showing  their  interest  and  the  same  question  in  the  mind 
of  both. 

What  effect  would  this  new  person  have  upon  the  party 
as  far  as  Athena  was  concerned,  for  both  confessed,  but 
only  to  themselves,  their  deep  sentiment  for  Athena.  To 
have  been  otherwise  than  interested,  they  both  argued, 
would  not  have  been  human.  Each  looked  upon  the  other 
in  as  yet  a  rather  undefined  way  as  being  a  rival,  and  each 
begrudged  every  look,  every  glance,  every  word  that  she 
bestowed  upon  the  other.  So  now,  alas,  another  man — an 
American — evidently  comparatively  young  and  undoubt- 
edly attractive  was  to  be  added  to  the  party — another 
rival — another  entrant.  .  .  . 

Coste 's  mind  went  back  to  Corfu  when  he  had  betrayed 
himself  to  Athena  as  they  were  walking  across  the  Es- 
planade, and  Haiden  thought  of  Sappho  Rock  when  he  had 
discovered  in  those  first  hours  of  meeting  that  he  had  met 
the  woman  of  his  life.  There  is  no  other  way  by  which  the 
progress  of  love  is  more  reminiscently  marked  with  the  joy 
of  its  acceptance  or  the  disappointment  of  its  denial,  than  in 
pleasure  travel,  for  a  single  scene  may  present  forever  after 
a  picture  which  makes  for  life  much  of  its  framework,  the 
framework  of  gladness  or  regret  when  sentiment  is  awak- 
ened. To  Coste,  Corfu  would  always  conjure  up  in  his  mind 


THE  MARRIAGE  VASE  67 

doubt;  and  Sappho's  Rock  would  ever  bring  to  the  mind  of 
Haiden  a  new  born  hope. 

The  streets  of  Athens  were  filled  with  soldiers.  Even 
the  school  children  wore  naval  or  military  uniforms  and 
the  little  lads  marched  to  and  from  school  to  the  sound  of 
drums,  for  War  Minister  Venezelos,  then  at  the  zenith  of 
his  populartiy,  like  Thucydides  of  old  was  trying  to  make 
every  Greek  lad  a  soldier. 

The  recent  victories  of  the  Hellenic  forces  in  the  con- 
cluded Balkan  war,  delivering  over  to  Greece  the  cream  of 
the  whole  disputed  territory,  elevated  the  Greeks  to  a  most 
patriotic  frame  of  exalted  mind. 

As  they  drove  down  the  Rue  de  Stade  to  their  hotel  in 
the  Place  de  Constitution,  Ward's  party  wondered  at  the 
interminable  line  of  officers  and  men  clanking  along  with 
their  side  arms. 

"Athens  will  be  a  great  tourist  city  when  once  they  have 
it  well  watered,  for  the  water  supply  and  sewage  disposal 
are  the  two  great  problems  which  confront  the  Greek 
capital  today,"  said  Haiden.  "We  were  lucky  in  being 
able  to  secure  reservations  at  the  only  good  hotel  in  the 
city,  for  Athens  is  full  of  soldiers  and  politicians,  who  are 
here  to  sharpen  their  axes  upon  the  new  grinding  stones 
which  the  fortune  of  war  has  given  them.  By  the  way,  if 
you  will  allow  me,  I  am  going  to  reverse  the  usual  order 
of  sightseeing  in  Athens,  and  we  will  not  visit  the  Acrop- 
olis, if  you  will  follow  my  suggestion,  until  we  have  done 
all  the  other  principal  sights.  Right  after  luncheon,  if 
you  are  willing,  we  will  drive  to  the  Dipylon,  the  ancient 
Athenian  cemetery." 

"Quite  a  cheerful  way  of  commencing  a  visit  to  Athens," 
laughed  Magnus,  "but  as  long  as  we  are  not  actually 
attending  a  funeral  of  my  own  hopes,  I  presume  we 
shouldn't  complain."  , 

Haiden  conducted  them  to  the  ancient  burial  ground, 
explaining : 

"One  thing  that  struck  me  on  my  first  visit  to  China 
was  the  fact  that  the  Chinese  still  continue  the  ancient 


58  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

custom  observed  both  by  the  Athenians  and  Romans  of 
burying  their  dead  just  outside  the  city  gates  and  by  the 
side  of  the  road  leading  to  them.  The  Dipylon  was  the 
chief  gateway  to  Athens  as  its  name,  'Double  Gate,'  indi- 
cates. Just  outside  the  Dipylon  these  funeral  monuments 
and  sepulchres  were  placed.  After  I  have  shown  you  the 
Equestrian  Belief  and  the  interesting  tomb  representing 
a  lady  at  her  toilet,  and  a  few  other  of  the  more  remark- 
able monuments,  I  am  going  to  have  you  particularly  study 
the  marriage  vases  of  Loutrophoros  stones.  These  show  the 
pitcher  in  which  the  water  was  brought  for  the  marriage 
bath.  It  is  found  only  on  the  graves  of  the  unmarried." 

They  passed  down  the  dusty  road  of  the  excavation  and 
at  first  passing  them  unnoticed,  he  brought  them  back  to 
the  Loutrophori. 

"You  know,"  he  said,  "these  simple  tombs  marked  by 
steles,  with  the  marriage  vase  in  relief,  have  always  strange- 
ly affected  me.  Perhaps  I  am  too  romantic,  but  to  me  a 
romance  weaves  itself  about  each  one  and  I  ask  myself, 
'Who  was  she?  Who  was  he?  Who  was  the  lover  who 
was  left  behind  to  mourn  before  that  marriage — the  am- 
bition of  their  young  lives — could  be  consummated?'  Per- 
haps even  at  the  moment  when  they  were  preparing  for  the 
happy  ceremony,  death  stepped  in  and  darkened  the  life 
of  the  survivor  forever.  And  now  look,"  he  continued  as 
he  pointed  to  the  tombstone,  "the  marriage  vase  is  covered 
with  snails  and  grown  about  with  weeds,  with  only  here 
and  there  a  struggling  flower  amid  the  noisome  ruins  and 
dirt ;  and  from  the  stone  coffin  leer  the  dry,  fleshless  bones. ' ' 

They  followed  his  recital  as  he  still  reflectively  continued : 

"But  among  all  the  other  mutilated  statues,  these  mar- 
riage vases,  because  of  their  simple  form,  seem  best  to  have 
escaped  the  hand  of  the  vandal  and  the  mutilation  of  time. 
All  the  pretentious  emblems  of  the  mighty  are  largely  de- 
stroyed; yet  these  simple  steles  of  the  marriage  vase  still 
look  out  with  their  whitened  faces  just  like  yonder  little 
flower  growing  among  the  weeds." 

He  looked  long  at  the  vases  and  then  continued: 


THE  MARRIAGE  VASE  59 

"There  is  a  splendid  collection  of  Loutrophori  in  the 
National  Museum  and  there  is  hardly  anything  cut  in 
marble  which  excites  my  emotion  more  as  I  try  to  read 
from  the  carved  relief  something  of  the  romance  of  life  and 
the  sorrow  of  death,  for  all  of  these  vases  are  really  the 
shrines  of  virtuous  maidens  about  whose  sickbed  loving 
hands  reached  out  in  protest  against  the  untimely  sepa- 
ration." 

They  stood  in  the  scorching  sun,  silent  under  the  fasci- 
nation of  the  surroundings.  The  sound  of  purling  water 
through  the  aqueduct  came  to  them  as  it  harmonized  for  a 
moment  with  the  song  of  birds,  until  harshly  broken  by  the 
rasping  jangle  of  a  trolley  car  beyond,  which,  when  it  had 
gone  its  way,  again  left  them  silent. 

Athena  looked  long  at  the  marriage  vases  and  glancing 
up,  she  saw  the  eyes  of  both  Coste  and  Haiden  fixed  upon 
her,  suddenly  she  grew  embarrassed  and  then  felt  rebel- 
lious at  her  confusion. 

"How  silly,"  she  reflected,  "that  the  mere  suggestion  of 
marriage  in  the  presence  of  these  two  men  should  at  all 
disturb  my  mind.  Indeed  neither  of  them  could  think  that 
my  marriage  could  have  anything  to  do  with  either  of 
them." 

She  commenced  to  feel  that  she  was  not  enjoying  the 
trip  as  much  as  she  wished.  There  was  something  uncanny 
about  that  visit  to  the  Dipylon  cemetery.  Graveyards  did 
always  make  her  feel  moody  and  depressed  anyhow,  and 
standing  in  the  midst  of  these  tombs,  which  threw  the  mind 
back  so  many  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  years  before,  with 
even  some  of  the  skulls  within  the  stone  sepulchres  grinning 
out  at  her,  put  her  in  a  distressingly  lugubrious  frame  of 
mind.  She  did  not  again  glance  either  at  Coste  or  Haiden, 
until  just  as  they  were  passing  out  of  the  gateway,  by  sheer 
accident  she  looked  at  Haiden  as  he  stood  aside  to  let  her 
pass.  Their  eyes  met.  In  the  meeting  her  confusion  van- 
ished, and  she  returned  his  glance  long  and  steadily.  Then 
in  a  frightened  way  she  tried  to  deny  to  herself  that  she  at 
all  liked  him. 


60  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 


XI 

O'ROURKE  APPEARS 

On  the  morning  after  their  visit  to  the  Dipylon, 
O'Rourke  put  in  his  appearance. 

He  was  already  in  the  bepalmed  lobby  of  the  hotel 
talking  with  her  father  when  Athena  saw  him,  and  she 
felt  that  it  must  be  he,  although  her  memory  was  a  blank 
as  to  the  passing  glimpse  of  him  years  before.  She  had 
read  some  of  his  books  and  greatly  admired  him  as  an 
author.  Rather  unsophisticated  as  to  literature,  an  author 
was  to  her  a  wonderfully  mysterious  personage.  She 
rather  half  dreaded  meeting  him.  His  books  of  travel  were 
so  wonderful,  and  then  the  power  of  imagination,  with  the 
ability  to  create  out  of  nothing  but  the  practice  of  ex- 
perience, real  men  and  live  women  who  lived  on  through- 
out life's  memory  as  if  known  in  flesh  and  bone — ,  that 
power,  to  her,  was  overwhelming. 

So  it  was  with  some  timidity  that  she  saw  her  father 
bringing  O'Rourke  towards  her.  She  was  confused  and 
hardly  able  to  account  to  herself  whether  he  really  were 
handsome  or  not.  She  felt,  however,  that  meeting  him  was 
an  event  in  her  life — a  real  event — like  seeing  the  Dipylon 
yesterday.  Yes,  an  event;  not  merely  an  experience. 

"I  am  glad  to  know  you,"  she  heard  his  full  resonant 
voice  say  as  he  stood  before  her.  .  .  .  She  murmured  some 
formal  expression  in  return. 

"I  could  pick  you  in  a  crowd  just  because  you  still  look 
so  much  like  your  father,"  remarked  "Ward  as  the  three 
drifted  over  toward  the  divans  on  the  shaded  veranda. 

He  remained  standing  until  he  had  seated  both  of  them, 
and  then  as  he  himself  lightly  dropped  down  on  to  the 
cushions,  she  became  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
powerfully  muscular,  with  a  rugged,  strong-featured  face, 
deep  chest  and  long,  massive,  sloping  shoulders.  She 
watched  his  hands — hands  browned  and  roughened  with  ex- 


O'ROURKE  APPEARS  61 

posure,  the  white  crescent  of  whose  nails,  deep  sunken  and 
immaculate,  shone  chalky  white  against  the  deep  tan  of 
his  fingers.  , 

She  noticed  that  everything  he  had  on  seemed  slightly 
worn  and  yet  so  immaculate  that  it  seemed  new.  She  sud- 
denly found  an  interest  in  his  cravat,  a  simple  four-in-hand 
which  had  been  so  skillfully  tied  and  with  such  an  un- 
wrinkled,  well-fitting  knot  that  she  imagined  him  standing 
entirely  independent  of  a  mirror  looping  the  silk  around 
his  collar  with  those  deft  and  powerful  fingers. 

As  he  adjusted  himself  in  his  seat,  she  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  fountain  pen,  snugged  up  alongside  a  vest  pocket  note- 
book. She  wondered  why  such  details  interested  her. 

"Ah,"  thought  she,  answering  her  own  query,  "it  is 
because  this  man  is  a  worker — a  real  worker." 

"We  have  been  much  interested  in  following  your  career. 
You  have  made  good  use  of  your  life.  They  tell  me  that 
your  new  novel  had  the  largest  sale  of  any  fiction  last 
year,"  said  Ward. 

O'Rourke  did  not  thank  him  for  the  recognition,  but 
gathering  his  hands  together  so  that  the  thumb  and  finger 
tips  joined,  looked  out  over  into  the  garden  of  the  King's 
Palace. 

"I  hope  that  my  books  will  do  some  good,"  he  said. 
"I  try  to  put  a  sermon  into  every  chapter — a  sermon  that 
will  help  some  one  somehow.  There  are  not  enough  days 
in  a  year  nor  years  in  a  person's  life  to  neglect  a  single 
opportunity  to  try  to  do  good." 

"You  authors  have  a  wonderful  chance  for  well  doing," 
commented  Ward. 

"Yes.  Some  authors,  even  in  this  day  of  little  reading, 
are  doing  good  and  great  good.  But  you  know,"  he  con- 
tinued confidentially,  "I  sometimes  become  very  discour- 
aged, for  I  have  never  been  able  to  get  a  publisher  for  the 
best  book  I  have  ever  written.  Everything  today  is  meas- 
ured upon  the  selling  basis.  It  isn't  so  much  the  writing 
of  the  book  as  it  is  its  boosting  which  counts.  Now,  I  have 
already  had  published  a  whole  shelf  of  fiction  and  on  the 


62 

whole  shelf  full  never  gave  as  much  of  my  heart  and  brain — 
yes,  I  would  say— of  my  life  itself,  as  I  did  on  this  particular 
book  which  no  publisher  will  accept." 

"What  is  the  book?"  asked  Athena,  her  sympathy 
aroused. 

"It  is  a  plea  for  the  Chinese,"  he  answered.  "A  state- 
ment of  the  wrong  inflicted  upon  them  by  the  Occident,  and 
an  attempt  to  show  why  they  should  be  righted  before  the 
Chinese  themselves  in  their  own  might  and  power  shall  ad- 
just their  wrongs  themselves." 

"Why  wouldn't  publishers  take  it?"  asked  Athena. 

"Well,  the  answer  always  came  that  the  English  reading 
public  looked  upon  the  Chinese  as  they  looked  upon  the 
Negro — a  man  without  a  soul — and  they  said  that  no  one 
would  buy  a  book  unless  there  was  real  soul  life  in  it.  They 
admitted  that  they  themselves  were  thrilled  by  the  story, 
but  declared  that  because  of  its  alleged  violation  of  the 
sentimental  rule  of  fiction  which  governed  the  sale  of 
books,  they  would  not  dare  to  undertake  the  speculation  of 
its  publication." 

"But  some  day  it  will  be  published,  won't  it?"  exclaimed 
Athena. 

"Not  in  this  generation,  not  unless  I  publish  it  myself," 
responded  O'Rourke,  "and  I  am  traveling  so  much  that  I 
cannot  even  properly  edit  my  manuscripts,  let  alone  at- 
tending to  the  score  and  one  intricate  details  which  mean  a 
books  publication,  circulation  and  sale." 

"I  presume  that  it  is  with  publishers  as  it  is  with  the 
rest  of  the  business  world,"  remarked  Ward.  "They  really 
don't  know  what  they  do  want  beyond  the  given  set  standard 
into  which  their  capital  and  work  are  narrowed.  I  know  that 
the  first  start  I  got  in  life,"  he  remarked,  smiling  grimly, 
"was  by  absolutely  violating  that  rule  of  standard,  for  I 
bought  a  copper  mine  filled  with  water  with  the  idea  of 
holding  it  until  somebody  should  invent  pumps  powerful 
enough  to  drain  it.  After  I  had  bought  the  mine,  within  a 
very  few  weeks  a  fellow  came  along  with  a  pump  proposition 
which  we  patented  together  and  eventually  each  of  us  made 


O'ROURKE  APPEARS  63 

more  money  a  hundred  times  over,  out  of  the  pump  than  I 
ever  did  out  of  the  mine,"  and  the  old  man  threw  his  head 
back  with  a  light  laugh,  his  eyes  dancing  with  glee  at  the 
recollection. 

"Mr.  O'Rourke  says  he  will  be  very  glad,"  continued  the 
old  man,  addressing  his  daughter,  ' '  to  continue  with  us  on  the 
cruise.  He  has  been  in  Epirus  getting  material  for  a  new 
book  and  says  that  it  is  safe  and  practicable  to  make  a  run 
up  into  that  country  after  we  have  visited  Adelphi.  Epirus 
is  a  part  of  Albania,  you  know. ' ' 

"That  would  be  very  interesting,"  remarked  Athena,  and 
then  added,  as  she  gave  O'Kourke  a  long  look: 

"My  father  tells  me  that  you  have  traveled  all  over  the 
world,  two  or  three  times  over. ' ' 

' '  Yes, ' '  responded  0  'Rourke  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone.  ' '  But 
it  seems  to  me  that  only  now  am  I  commencing  to  travel,  that 
all  I  have  experienced  is  just  a  beginning.  It  reminds  me,  but 
quite  inappropriately,  of  my  first  take-down  after  graduating 
from  West  Point.  As  a  shave-tail  I  was  stationed  at  Jeffer- 
son Barracks,  and  on  one  occasion,  being  invited  to  a  social 
gathering  in  St.  Louis,  I  happened  to  overhear  the  conver- 
sation of  a  lady  with  whom  I  had  just  been  dancing.  As  I 
was  seated  in  an  awned  veranda,  she  did  not  know  of  my 
presence.  I  first  overheard  the  conversation  when  her  com- 
panion asked  of  her:  'What  do  you  think  of  Lieutenant 
0  'Rourke  ? '  Whereupon  she  responded :  '  Oh,  he  is  all  right, 
except  he  is  a  graduate  from  West  Point.'  'What  do  you 
mean?'  asked  the  other.  'Why,  simply,'  she  returned, 
'  that  those  West  Point  men  get  on  my  nerves,  for  everything 
in  their  whole  life,  no  matter  how  old  they  get  to  be,  dates 
from  West  Point,  and  whenever  or  however  you  meet  them, 
they  never  fail  to  interlard  their  conversation  with  such  ex- 
pressions as:  'When  I  was  at  the  Academy'  or  'In  my  class 
at  West  Point'  or  'Just  before  my  graduation  at  the  Military 
School, '  which  after  you  hear  it  repeated  over  and  over  again 
by  every  one  from  the  young  second  lieutenant  up  to  the 
grandfather-general  wearies  you  just  a  mite.  I  don't  see  how 
any  woman  could  bear  to  marry  a  West  Pointer. ' ' 


64  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

O'Rourke  recited  the  dialogue  drolly  and  they  all  laughed. 
Then  he  dryly  added: 

' '  From  that  time  on,  one  of  the  ambitions  of  my  life  was  to 
get  honorably  out  of  the  army,  for  after  such  an  arraignment 
I  felt  that  my  whole  life  had  been  a  failure  and  that  only  as 
a  civilian  would  I  commence  to  live." 

"But  you  went  through  the  Spanish- American  War,  did 
you  not?"  asked  Ward. 

"Oh,  yes.  Of  course,  as  long  as  there  was  any  fighting  I 
could  make  the  army  life  interesting,  so  after  the  Cuban  cam- 
paign, I  went  over  and  remained  in  the  Philippines  until  they 
appeared  to  be  pacified.  But  before  I  was  commencing  to 
draw  my  second  fogy  of  pay  on  five  years'  service,  I  resigned, 
and  have  been  knocking  around  the  world  ever  since,  spending 
most  of  my  time  in  countries  where  there  was  actual  war. 
I  was  in  the  Chinese  Revolution,  after  the  Russian-Japanese 
War  had  finished,  and  since  then  have  been  spending  most  of 
my  time  in  following  up  the  troubles  in  the  Balkan  States." 

"Don't  you  ever  get  tired  of  traveling,  and  particularly 
being  in  countries  during  war  times?"  asked  Athena. 

"No,"  he  answered.  "It  is  the  sort  of  existence  which 
seems  to  satisfy  my  love  of  adventure.  Although  I  deplore 
war,  there  is  an  excitement  in  it  which  will  always  fascinate 
me." 

"Aren't  you  ever  going  to  return  to  America  to  live?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  responded.  "Some  day  I  want  to  go  back 
there  to  live  and  to  die  and  I  am  prepared  to  return  at  any 
moment — if — if — ,  we  should  ever  be  involved  in  war,"  and 
then  divining  that  some  apology  for  his  self-expatriation  was 
appropriate,  he  added: 

"My  income  with  even  all  the  books  I  have  published  is 
not  large,  and  ekes  out  farther  in  Europe  than  at  home, 
besides  giving  me  material  for  my  literary  work." 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation  Coste  and  Haiden  came 
strolling  from  the  breakfast  room,  with  lighted  cigars,  both 
trim,  fresh  and  immaculate  from  the  night's  rest  and  the 
morning's  bath.  Ward  called  to  them : 

' '  Come  over.  Here  is  the  final  member  of  our  party, ' '  and 
then  he  said  in  a  lower  voice  to  0  'Rourke : 


O'ROURKE  APPEARS  65 

"How  shall  I  introduce  you — as  Captain  O'Rourke?" 

"No,"  responded  O'Rourke  with  a  waggish  expression. 
"In  the  regular  service  I  never  got  even  as  far  as  Captain, 
for  we  West  Pointers,  I  must  say,  in  order  to  corroborate  the 
St.  Louis  young  lady  in  her  diagnosis  of  Academy  short- 
comings, had  very  slow  advancements,  and  I  never  got  beyond 
first  lieutenant,  and  lieutenants,  you  know,  are  always  called 
Mister,  so  I  am  plain  O  'Rourke,  and  plain  Timothy  0  'Rourke 
at  that." 

They  all  smiled  and  after  O'Rourke  had  shaken  hands 
with  the  newcomers,  Haiden  asked: 

' '  I  presume  you  know  Athens  pretty  well,  Mr.  0  'Rourke. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  know  the  points  of  the  compass  here  and  I  have 
tried  to  read  and  feel  myself  back  in  ancient  Athens  during 
the  several  months  I  have  been  here  altogether,  but  I  can't 
say  that  I  know  it  well  in  even  a  single  one  of  its  great  in- 
spirations. ' ' 

"I  merely  asked,"  continued  Haiden,  "because  I  wish  to 
have  you  help  me  arrange  the  program  for  the  party.  All 
that  they  have  thus  far  seen  is  the  Dipylon,  with,  of  course, 
a  distant  view  of  the  Acropolis,  an  actual  visit  of  which 
I  wish  to  reserve  until  the  last.  Now,  I  was  about  to  pro- 
pose that  we  visit  the  Temple  of  Mysteries  at  Eleusis  since 
the  dust  will  not  be  bad  today  and  motoring  there  and  back 
will  be  rather  pleasant." 

"I  will  gladly  join  you,"  responded  O'Rourke,  "and  put 
myself  under  your  conductorship.  I  haven't  stopped  in 
Eleusis  for  several  years." 

The  motor  swished  them  away  and  almost  within  the 
hour  they  had  slowed  down  through  the  dusty  streets  of  the 
village  of  Eleusis,  finally  coming  up  by  the  ruins  of  the 
triumphal  arch  that  leads  to  the  Temple  of  Mysteries.  The 
glaring  glint  of  sunshine  threw  the  shadows  clear  and  sharp 
over  the  steps  leading  up  way  beyond  to  the  floor  of  solid 
rock,  upon  which  had  stood  the  Priests  of  the  Temple,  in 
those  days  of  ages  past,  looking  out  for  the  inspiration  of 
Nature  in  the  resplendent  blue  of  Salamis'  depths  beneath. 
As  they  gazed  upon  the  yellow  brown  and  the  ivory  tinted 


66  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

rocks,  there  was  just  enough  of  the  old  arrangement  of  the 
templed  precincts  to  make  the  imagination  drive  strong  and 
fast  back  into  the  forgotten  past.  And  they  listened  tensely 
to  Haiden  when  he  said: 

"The  religion  that  was  worshipped  and  practised  within 
this  ruined  enclosure  is  forever  lost.  We  shall  never  know 
the  prayers  that  they  uttered;  the  songs  of  praise  that  they 
sung;  nor  all  of  the  hope  which  they  held  forth — ,  they, 
the  Priests  of  this  Temple  of  Mysteries — ,  but  we  do  know 
that  the  basis  of  their  belief  was  faith,  hope  and  charity. 
Faith  and  charity  in  this  world  and  hope  for  a  better  life 
in  the  world  to  come.  Even  your  guide  books  will  tell  you 
that  Cicero,  who  was  one  of  its  followers,  declared  that  this 
great  religion  taught:  'Not  only  to  live  happily  but  to  die 
with  a  fair  hope.'  ' 

"But  who  was  their  god?  How  did  they  personify  their 
deity?"  asked  Ward. 

"Really,  in  a  mother's  love  is  the  religion  founded," 
answered  Haiden,  "for  it  was  Demeter,  searching  for  her 
daughter  who  had  been  taken  from  her  by  evil  influences, 
who,  according  to  the  Cult,  was  the  founder  of  the  belief. 
Later  on  you  shall  see  her  statue  in  the  Museum — ,  just  a 
plain  statue  of  a  beautiful  faced  woman,  whose  features, 
filled  with  a  mother's  love,  glorify  the  sculptured  marble." 

"How  beautiful,"  exclaimed  Athena  as  she  repeated  the 
words:  "A  religion  founded  on  a  mother's  love." 

"Yes,"  returned  Haiden,  "and  the  great  success  of  the 
Christian  religion  came  from  its  making  one  of  its  first 
precepts  the  dignity  and  respect  of  womanhood." 

In  the  surroundings  the  thought  impressed  itself  deeply 
upon  them. 

A  little  lamb  stood  looking  dubiously  about  bleating  for 
its  mother.  As  Haiden  held  out  his  hand  it  came  up  and 
ceased  its  bleating. 

There  was  no  laughter  excited  by  the  incident,  even  when 
Haiden  reached  over  and  patted  the  woolly  head.  The 
moment  was  filled  with  seriousness  for  them  all,  standing 
in  the  midst  of  ruins  which  represented  a  religion  which 


Her  face  in  his   fancy   shone  down  upon  him  from  the   sapphire  sky  above 


O'KOUKKE  APPEARS  67 

had  given  its  uplift  to  the  world  long  before  Christianity 
had  even  been  conceived. 

The  wind  from  the  dappled  sea  breathed  toward  them 
from  the  grey  rocks  to  the  brown  and  russet  shores  of 
Salamis. 

The  gleam  of  broken  marble,  the  shadowed  outline  of  the 
ruins  of  noble  buildings,  the  pavements  worn  smooth  by 
worshippers  of  two  thousand  years  ago,  the  circle  of  the 
deep  blue  sea  with  the  mountain  ridges  beyond;  all  this 
held  them  as  they  listened  to  the  song  of  birds  coming  from 
the  hillside  cypress  and  the  groves  of  citron  and  olive. 

They  were  back  in  Athens  for  luncheon,  and  after  the 
siesta  again  started  out,  first  visiting  the  monument  of 
Lysikrates. 

"Just  think  of  it,"  exclaimed  Haiden,  as  he  pointed  at 
the  beautiful  memorial.  "This  is  a  monument  to  a  man 
who  would  be  entirely  forgotten  had  it  not  been  erected  in 
his  honor.  His  and  even  his  father's  name  was  perpetuated 
through  all  history  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  the  son  was 
choragus  or  music  leader  when  a  certain  boy  chorus  won  a 
prize. 

"Listen,"  he  exclaimed,  lifting  his  finger.  "Do  you  hear 
any  music?" 

They  silently  listened,  but  to  their  ears  there  only  came 
the  harsh  clank  of  a  passing  soldier's  sabre,  making  dis- 
cord with  the  coarse,  rough  cry  of  a  street  vender. 

"I  do  not  hear  those  discordant  sounds  when  I  look  at 
that  monument,"  continued  Haiden.  "But  I  hear  a  com- 
position made  up  from  all  the  sweetest  music  treasured  in 
my  memory.  And  I  picture  out  Letrotes,  the  son  of 
Lyseithedias,  his  face  radiant  with  emotion,  leading  on  the 
final  refrain  of  that  boy  chorus  song  which  still  lives  on, 
although  by  no  memory  retained  and  by  no  voice  recalled." 

As  he  spoke,  his  own  face  took  on  a  faraway  expression 
and  his  voice  became  low  and  musical.  Athena  was  deeply 
affected,  and  when  he  turned  to  lead  them  away,  her  eyes 
sought  his  and  she  felt  that  she  understood  him  as  she  had 
never  before  understood  any  other  man,  save  her  father. 


68  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 


XII 
A  GLANCE   BACKWARD 

O'Rourke  had  hardly  said  a  word  during  the  previous 
day  of  sightseeing.  He  seemed  to  be  in  a  reverie  and  in 
the  silence  which  followed  Haiden's  remarks,  clasped  his 
hands  behind  him  and  paced  backward  and  forward  for  a 
few  steps,  looking  about  like  a  painter,  who,  having  given 
the  first  strokes  to  his  picture,  pauses  to  contemplate  the 
landscape  before  he  continues. 

But  when  they  finally  made  their  way  to  the  Acropolis 
for  the  first  time  during  the  four  days  they  had  been  to- 
gether, Athena  found  herself  alone  with  O'Rourke  by  a 
casual  and  unintentional  separation  from  the  party,  which, 
had  it  been  by  the  slightest  design  on  either  side  would 
have  made  them  feel  very  uncomfortable. 

They  had  been  left  standing  by  the  Temple  of  Athena 
Nike,  each  hardly  conscious  of  the  presence  of  the  other  or 
of  the  departure  of  the  rest  of  the  party,  so  intent  were 
they  on  the  wonderful  view  spread  out  before  them. 

Athena  was  reading  from  her  guidebook  Byron 's  verse : 

"Descending  fast  the  mountain  shadow's  kiss 
Thy  glorious  gulf,  unconquer'd  Salamis!" 

and  the  words  came  to  her  lips  half  aloud,  causing 
O'Rourke  absent  mindedly  to  step  out  from  the  shadow 
where  he  was  standing,  so  that  he  came  beside  her,  saying: 

"Yes,  Byron's  description  is  wonderful.  The  first  time 
I  ever  visited  the  Acropolis  I  sat  down  right  on  that  marble 
step  and  wept  like  a  child.  I  have  often  tried  to  write 
something  about  what  I  have  seen  in  Greece,  and  although 
sometimes  I  have  staid  up  all  night  working,  as  I  thought, 
under  an  inspiration,  after  I  had  finished  I  would  tear  the 
sheets  up  because  they  seemed  so  inadequate." 

"I  am  just  beginning  to  feel  this  thrill  of  Greece  my- 
self," said  she.  "I  never  knew  that  there  could  be 


A  GLANCE  BACKWARD  69 

anything  so  glorious  on  earth.  Why,  that  sea  yonder  looks 
just  like  one  great  blazing  sapphire  and  the  heavens  are 
set  as  with  gigantic  precious  stones." 

"It's  a  novel  simile  you  are  using,"  he  remarked  with- 
out looking  at  her,  and  then  added: 

"Athena,  the  Temple  of  Athena  Nike — ,  the  Temple  of 
the  Winged  Athena,  the  most  beautiful  temple  in  the 
world,  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  situations  of  the  whole 
planet.  By  the  way,"  he  continued,  "your  parents  must 
have  had  considerable  interest  in  Greek  mythology  to  name 
you  Athena." 

"How  did  you  know  that  was  my  name?  I  rarely  use  it 
and  generally  prefer  to  be  called  by  the  good  American 
name  of  Sally." 

"Oh,  because  of  your  father's  comradeship  with  my 
father,  I  have  known  of  you  for  many  years." 

"Yes,  and  I  remember  you,  I  remember  you  but  vaguely, 
oh,  so  vaguely,  when  you  came  back  from  West  Point  on  a 
vacation.  They  made  quite  a  lion  of  you." 

He  did  not  seem  to  heed  her  remark  and  finally  said : 

"What  a  wonderful  fellow  Haiden  is." 

"Yes,  he  is  indeed  of  great  benefit  to  us  in  explaining 
everything. ' ' 

"More  than  that,  he  is  good  hero-material,  ready  made 
and  fashioned  into  my  own  mind  which  only  needs  the 
mechanical  dip  of  the  pen  to  turn  into  good  stuff.  It  is  rare 
to  find  so  much  emotional  depth  in  a  man.  Who  is  he?" 

"I  only  know  that  he  comes  vouched  for  by  the  Duchess, 
who,  because  of  his  intimate  knowledge  of  Greece  asked  to 
have  him  of  the  party.  That  great  fellow  whom  they  nick- 
name Magnus  and  who  rarely  says  anything,  is  a  personal 
friend  of  Count  Coste  and  it  was  in  that  way  that  he  was 
invited." 

From  beneath  them,  in  the  auditorium  of  the  theater, 
clanked  back  the  echo  of  a  church  bell,  the  only  sound  about 
them  save  the  click  of  a  stone  cutter's  hammer  engaged  in 
a  work  of  restoration. 

O'Rourke  turned  and  watched  the  flakes  of  marble  chip- 


70 

ping  out  from  the  tools  of  the  workmen  as  they  stoically  la- 
bored on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stairM?ay,  and  then  said : 

"It  seems  wonderful  to  me  that  this  whole  cliff  top  was 
adorned  by  these  wonderful  monuments,  all  commenced  and 
finished  within  the  short  space  of  ten  years  and  in  that  sin- 
gle decade  a  few  men's  brains  fashioned  out  of  marble 
blocks  an  influence  which  will  live  on  forever.  I  think  it  is 
well  that  Haiden  reserved  the  Acropolis  for  the  last,  for  to 
me  there  is  nothing  like  it  in  the  whole  world. 

"You  who  have  seen  everything,  know,"  she  acquiesced, 
looking  up  at  him. 

He  averted  her  gaze,  saying: 

"No  one  has  ever  seen  everything  and  few  of  us  see  all 
of  anything  that  we  look  at,  for  we  generally  only  take  a 
single  angle  and  are  satisfied  with  that.  It  really  takes  sev- 
eral people  together  a  long  time,  to  even  get  a  part  of  an 
understanding  of  a  single  one  of  these  remarkable  monu- 
ments. I  fear,"  he  continued  in  a  different  tone  that  came 
to  her  somewhat  sadly,  "I  fear  that  I  have  been  living  too 
much  alone.  The  Hermit's  life  isn't  conducive  to  seeing 
things  as  they  should  be  seen." 

She  dropped  her  handkerchief  and  he  leaned  dangerously 
near  the  precipitous  edge,  picking  the  perfumed  linen  up 
gracfully  and  without  any  thought  of  the  dizzying  depth 
below.  He  returned  it  to  her  without  a  word,  folded  his 
arms  and  then  was  lost  in  reverie  as  he  gazed  on  the  indigo 
colored  water  of  Salamis. 

Silently  they  both  stood  and  looked,  the  light  gauze  of  her 
veil  floating  upward  against  his  broad  shoulders. 

"I — ,  I — , "  and  then  he  hesitated,  abruptly  saying, 
"Shall  we  not  rejoin  the  party?" 

"That  is  not  what  you  intended  first  to  say,  was  it?"  she 
ingenuously  asked. 

"No,  frankly,  it  wasn't." 

"What  was  it  then?" 

"Oh,  I  was  merely  going  to  express  the  pleasure  in  mak. 
ing  your  acquaintance  and  in  thanking  you  and  your  father 
for  being  invited  to  your  most  interesting  party." 


A  GLANCE  BACKWARD  71 

She  smiled  and  responded  graciously: 

"And  we  thank  you,  too." 

He  looked  at  her  earnestly  for  a  moment  and  then  de- 
clared : 

"Oh,  I  did  not  mean  to  make  it  just  a  mere  formal  com- 
pliment. I  really  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  look  upon  your 
father  as  being  my  life-long  benefactor.  He  does  not  know 
that  I  know  it,  for  he  has  tried  to  conceal  his  benefactions 
to  me." 

"He  told  me,"  said  Athena,  "that  he  had  helped  you  get 
your  appointment  at  West  Point." 

"Helped  me?  Why,  he,  himself,  appointed  me  when  he 
was  Congressman  and  his  benefactions  towards  me  com- 
menced long  before  that." 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly  and  he  continued: 

"You  see,  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  my  father, 
who  was  the  editor  of  the  town  newspaper,  enlisted  a  regi- 
ment of  infantry  and  was  made  its  Colonel,  and  by  the  end 
of  the  war,  for  bravery,  was  made  a  major  general.  Well, 
you  know  what  it  must  have  been  in  those  days  to  come  back 
with  that  rank  after  such  gallant  service.  If  he  had  been 
well  and  strong  there  would  have  been  a  different  story  to 
tell ;  but,  as  it  was,  a  rifle  wound,  not  at  first  considered  dan- 
gerous, developed  complications  that  made  him  a  paralytic, 
not  totally  so,  but  so  serious  as  to  unfit  him  for  any  sort 
of  labor." 

He  paused  during  his  narration  and  then  continued : 

"He  died  when  I  was  an  infant.    I  was  the  only  child." 

He  sighed,  and  then  said: 

"It  seems  strange,  doesn't  it,  that  my  father  should  have 
performed  such  splendid  service  for  those  long  four  years 
and  then  remain  a  mere  shell  of  a  man  ever  after.  As  often 
as  he  set  himself  at  some  labor,  just  as  often  he  failed  to 
accomplish  anything.  Of  course  the  government  gave  him 
a  pension,  insufficient,  however,  for  his  manner  of  living,  but 
from  some  mysterious  source,  which  I  now  know  was  your 
father's  benefaction,  he  was  always  supplied  with  money. 
After  his  death  the  pension  came  to  my  mother  through  a 


72  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

special  act  of  Congress  passed  by  the  influence  of  your 
father,  and  to  enumerate  all  that  he  did  for  us  would  be 
a  long  story.  "Well,  then  he  got  me  the  appointment  at 
West  Point,  and  on  graduation  I  went  into  the  engineers. 
I  think  you  know  the  rest  of  the  story  which  I  told  for  your 
benefit  at  the  hotel  when  I  first  met  you,  for  I  knew  that 
your  father  knew  all  about  me." 

He  turned  and  lightly  replaced  the  veil  about  her  neck, 
saying : 

"But  the  benefactions  did  not  cease  there.  After  I  had 
resigned  and  found  myself  in  Paris,  down  and  out  and  al- 
most penniless,  a  great  American  newspaper  sent  a  repre- 
sentative to  me  who  put  me  on  its  payroll  at  a  salary  larger 
than  I  had  ever  received  as  pay  in  the  Army,  and  then  I 
knew  again  that  it  was  your  father's  influence  that  was  help- 
ing me  along,  and  why?  Why  did  he  do  it?  Just  because 
of  the  comradeship  he  bore  my  father." 

"It  sounds  very  much  like  father's  way  of  doing  things," 
remarked  Athena. 

"But  please  do  not  tell  him  anything  about  this  con- 
fidence," he  urged.  "I  think  that  he  will  be  better  pleased 
if  he  still  believes  that  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  and  then  responded 
slowly : 

"I  have  never  had  any  confidence  apart  from  my 
father."  Then  she  added  musingly: 

"But  I  do  not  think  that  there  will  be  any  harm  in  this — 
this  reservation." 

He  slightly  bowed  his  acknowledgment  of  the  tacit  prom- 
ise, and  offered  her  his  arm  to  step  down  out  of  the  temple. 

Together  they  passed  silently  up  under  the  marble  columns 
of  the  gateway,  each  thinking  of  the  other,  and  with  a  new 
born  friendship  bringing — or  at  all  events  seeming  to  bring — 
them  nearer  and  nearer  together. 


COSTE'S  AWAKENING  73 


XIII 
COSTE'S  AWAKENING 

It  was  their  last  day  at  Athens,  a  day  beginning  full  of 
joy  for  Coste,  for  he  seemed  to  discover  in  Athena's  attitude 
towards  him  just  enough  cordiality  to  lead  him  to  believe 
that  in  time  he  could  make  her  love  him. 

He  hummed  a  little  operatic  air  to  himself  as  he  took  his 
cold  rubdown  and  went  through  a  few  setting  up  exercises. 
Then  he  arranged  his  toilet  with  more  than  usual  care  as  he 
admitted  to  himself,  rather  foolishly: 

"Yes,  I  can  make  her  love  me  and  she  will  make  me  ever 
happy  as  my  Queen." 

He  did  not  fear  the  rivalry  of  Haiden.  Haiden  was  too 
much  of  a  dreamer  to  win  a  woman's  heart,  and  although 
Coste  had  been  frequently  twitched  with  jealousy,  he  would 
not  let  himself  believe  that  Athena  ever  had  any  serious 
consideration  of  him  as  a  suitor  for  her  hand. 

As  for  O'Rourke,  he  had  really  not  3onsidered  him  at  all, 
for  he  seemed  to  have  in  his  make-up  the  elements  of  a 
polite  woman  hater,  and  it  was  only  on  the  single  occasion 
when  he  had  lingered  behind  with  Athena  on  the  Acropolis 
that  he  had  ever  manifested  any  interest  in  her  whatsoever. 

So  Coste  felt  almost  satisfied  that  there  would  be  clear  sail- 
ing for  him  right  up  to  the  very  port  of  matrimony  with 
the  beautiful  American  heiress,  with  whom  he  had  become 
completely  infatuated  as  never  before  with  woman.  He  felt 
that  were  he  already  King,  he  would  marry  her  even  though 
she  were  the  poorest  of  his  subjects. 

He  stepped  out  on  the  balcony  projecting  from  the  win- 
dow of  his  room.  He  felt  so  buoyant  that  his  tenor  burst 
out  into  a  quick,  vibrating,  pulsating  song  which  in  his 
happy  frame  he  could  not  restrain. 

The  song  brought  to  the  balcony  and  to  the  window  next 
to  his  the  huge  form  of  Magnus,  still  in  dressing  gown  and 
holding  in  his  fingers  his  phantom  cigarette.  He  frigidly 
responded  to  Coste 's  effusive  greeting  by  a  chilly  nod. 


74  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

But  his  indifference  did  not  at  all  disturb  the  rosy  con- 
fidence of  Coste.  To  him  all  the  world  was  now  bright  and 
happy  in  hope,  and  Magnus  was  one  of  the  instruments  of 
his  well  being.  So  he  still  lingered  and  sung  on  the  bal- 
cony, although  in  a  lower  voice,  looking  over  into  the  park- 
way, even  after  Magnus,  with  something  of  a  scowl  on  his 
face,  went  back  into  his  room. 

"I  haven't  been  paying  enough  attention  to  the  old 
chesty  of  late,"  he  reflected.  "Undoubtedly  he  feels  hurt 
because  I  have  seemingly  neglected  him  in  my  devotion  to 
the  beautiful  American.  I'll  make  it  a  point  of  taking  him 
around  at  luncheon  with  me  to  some  restaurant  apart  from 
the  others  to-day,  so  that  I  can  jolly  him  up  and  smooth  him 
down  a  little.  I  am  on  to  his  game  all  right  now.  .  .  .  He 
wants  to  make  me  King  so  that  he  can  control  the  new  in- 
dustrial franchises  and  mining  rights  under  my  authority 
as  King.  He  is  undoubtedly  representing  some  syndicate 
which  is  advancing  him  money  for  that  purpose,  but  if  the 
old  chap  doesn't  behave  himself  he  may  find  out  the  sort 
of  a  f eilow  he  has  to  deal  with  when  I  am  King. ' ' 

Magnus  gloomily  accepted  Coste 's  invitation  to  lunch, 
Coste  reflecting  that  it  would  be  the  first  time  they  had 
really  been  alone  together  since  the  day  when  he  had  de- 
livered his  soul  into  Magnus'  keeping. 

Coste  asked  to  be  driven  to  a  restaurant  which  he  had 
noticed  on  the  Rue  de  Stade,  and  through  whose  lace  cur- 
tains there  had  appeared  to  be  something  of  quiet  and  re- 
tirement. 

But  as  they  entered,  he  saw  that  at  that  luncheon  hour 
it  was  well  filled,  with  waiters  hurrying  back  and  forth  and 
a  concourse  of  guests  continually  coming  and  going. 

"It  is — ,  rather  noisy  here,"  remarked  Coste,  "and  I  do 
not  know  if  we  will  be  able  to  get  a  table  alone." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  testily  urged  Magnus  in  the  tone 
of  a  hungry  man.  "Let's  sit  anywhere,"  and  giving  his 
hat  and  stick  to  an  attendant,  he  carefully  folded  his  im- 
maculate gloves  into  his  pocket,  and  led  the  way  to  a  corner 
table  already  occupied  by  a  very  perfect  type  of  an  ancient 
Athenian,  both  in  features  and  bearing. 


COSTE'S  AWAKENING  75 

"If  we  sit  here,"  cautioned  Coste,  "better  speak  German, 
as  that  chap  looks  like  a  French-speaking  Greek." 

Magnus  gave  a  look,  and  answering  in  French  said: 

"What  difference  does  that  make?  We  have  no  secrets 
to  disclose." 

Coste  felt  hurt.  Why  should  Magnus  be  so  grouchy 
toward  him  ?  In  the  irritation  which  he  felt,  he  entirely  for- 
got to  thank  the  young  man  by  even  nodding  an  acknowledg- 
ment for  his  relinquishing  of  the  table  so  that  he  might  try 
to  enjoy  it  alone  with  Magnus. 

"What  are  you  going  to  eat?"  asked  Coste,  in  an  injured 
tone,  handing  over  the  bill-of-fare. 

"Oh,  just  some  Persian  Pilleau.  I  like  to  sharpen  it  up 
with  paprika,  and  thus  I  put  a  goulash  edge  on  the  hash 
mutton  which  takes  me  right  back  to  Budapest,"  returned 
Magnus,  half  goodnaturedly,  after  drinking  the  aperitif 
which  Coste  had  ordered. 

The  meal  progressed  in  silence,  for  Coste  could  not  find 
a  way  of  broaching  the  subject  of  the  Kingdom  of  Albania, 
and  in  his  nervous  waiting  for  an  opening,  he  drank  two 
and  then  three  half  bottles  of  Mavrodaphne  wine  until  the 
natural  buoyancy  of  his  nature  was  lost  in  its  heaviness. 

"I  suppose,"  he  tentatively  commenced,  "that  in  Albania 
there  may  be  difficulty  in  obtaining  good  servants." 

Magnus  gave  a  vague  shake  of  the  head  as  he  plucked 
open  a  fresh  almond. 

' '  Our  plans  of  Albania  seem  to  be  progressing  very  nicely, 
do  they  not?"  again  ventured  Coste. 

Magnus  seemed  to  be  too  much  engaged  with  his  dessert 
to  even  hear  as  Coste  continued. 

"I  fear  that  the  Epirotes,  unless  they  have  some  conces- 
sions made  to  them,  will  make  considerable  trouble  in  Al- 
bania, for  I  understand  that  they  are  already  sending  up 
new  field  pieces  and  planting  batteries  in  strategic  points. 
Now,  I,  for  one,"  he  added  reflectively,  looking  at  Magnus, 
whose  head  was  bent  over  his  plate,  "I,  for  one,  believe  that 
it  would  be  a  good  plan,  right  now  while  we  are  here  in 
Athens  to  conciliate  the  Epirotes  and  take  them  fully  into 
our  confidence." 


76  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"What!"  ejaculated  Magnus,  as  if  he  had  been  awakened 
from  sound  sleep,  "What  is  this  you  are  saying?" 

"I  was  saying,"  returned  Coste,  "or  rather,  I  was  going 
to  say,  that  I  believe  that  the  Epirotes  have  a  just  cause  for 
complaint,  and  that  they  are  too  formidable  to  be  over- 
looked— ,  that  we  ought  to  take  them  into  our  confidence." 

"What!  OUT  confidence?"  asked  Magnus,  dwelling  long 
upon  the  possessive. 

"Yes,"  responded  Coste.  "That  they  may  assist  us  in 
completing  our  program  and  bringing  it  to  fulfillment." 

Magnus  laid  his  two  hands  before  him,  clinching  up  the 
tablecloth  in  his  fingers. 

"What  program?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  the  program — ,  your  program — to  make  me  King 
of  Albania,"  he  blurted. 

Magnus  gave  another  clinch  at  the  tablecloth  which  set 
some  of  the  dishes  rattling  on  the  table. 

"You  fool!"  he  shot  out  between  his  teeth  and  bristling 
mustache.  ' '  You  wild  fool !  Do  you  think  that  I  would  ever 
go  into  a  venture  with  a  madcapped  gambler  like  you?" 
and  with  these  words  he  arose,  thrust  aside  his  unfinished 
dessert,  angrily  seized  his  hat  and  stick,  and  strode  out  of 
the  cafe,  purple  with  rage. 


XIV 
REVENGE 

Coste  felt  his  heart  crystallizing  all  its  feeling  into  hate 
as  he  watched  Magnus  going  out  of  the  cafe.  .  .  .  Oh!  the 
utter  heartlessness  of  it  all — the  treachery — the  deceit! 
Every  generous  thought  within  him  withered  up  as  his  fiery 
blood  boiled  in  the  recollection  of  the  insult.  Was  ever  man 
so  deceived  and  duped? 

He  rapped  loudly  on  a  glass  for  the  waiter,  and  paid  the 
bill  with  a  muttered  curse.  Then  he  sat  for  a  long  time, 
his  face  every  moment  becoming  more  pale  and  determined. 


REVENGE  77 

Yes.  He  would  be  revenged,  and  revenged  to  the  full- 
est. .  .  .  But  how? 

With  this  thought  in  his  mind,  he  vehemently  threw  his 
chair  backwards  and  turned  as  he  found  it  knocking  against 
that  of  the  one  at  the  table  behind  him. 

"Pardon,"  he  said  mechanically,  and  drew  his  chair  in. 

"There  is  no  wherefore,"  responded  a  clear  young  voice, 
in  French,  and,  in  an  inviting  cheerful  tone  that  caused  Coste 
to  look  backward  and  recognize  the  obliging  stranger  who 
had  given  up  the  table. 

Coste  for  a  moment  forgot  his  anger  as  he  looked  into  the 
frank  countenance  of  the  Greek. 

"This  restaurant  is  so  popularly  frequented  that  the 
chairs  are  placed  rather  too  closely  together,"  continued  the 
stranger. 

"Yes,"  returned  Coste,  "but  the  luncheon  has  been  well 
prepared  and  well  served." 

"We  lack  many  things  in  Athens  to  make  strangers  com- 
fortable. Our  cuisine  is  rather  good,  for  the  Greeks  have 
taken  lessons  for  centuries  from  the  Turks,  whose  cooking 
is  always  wholesome  and  has  of  late  years  been  rather  im- 
proved upon  by  the  French  methods,  which  many  of  our 
chefs  have  learned  in  Paris  itself.  You  see,  Athens  is  really 
not  so  far  away  from  the  rest  of  Europe,  except  it  only  seems 
so  because  we  are  even  not  yet  connected  by  railways  with 
other  parts  of  the  continent." 

Coste  found  himself  becoming  very  interested  in  what  the 
stranger  was  saying,  but  his  blood  was  still  frenzily  mount- 
ing at  the  insult  of  Magnus,  although  he  helped  himself  from 
a  dish  of  Turkish  delight  which  the  young  man  passed  him, 
and  politely  listened  as  he  went  on. 

"This  is  a  pastry  confection  which  is  purely  Turkish,  and 
if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  order  a  mastiqua  to  go  with  it." 

Coste  acquiesced  and  in  a  few  moments  the  two  were  talk- 
ing together  with  all  confidence. 

"Are  you  living  here?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"No.    I  am  here  on  just. — well,  what  I  might  call  a  pleas- 


78  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

ure  jaunt,  with  some  friends, — and  you?"  he  asked  in  polite 
return  of  the  interest. 

"I  really  am  an  American.  I  am  an  Epirote  American. 
I  came  back  to  serve  during  the  Balkan  war.  I  was  Cap- 
tain of  infantry  and  was  in  all  the  important  campaigns 
without  getting  even  a  scratch." 

"And  now?" 

"0,  now  I  have  resigned,  and  I  am  merely  staying  for 
awhile  in  Athens.  I  think  that  it  will  be  some  time  before 
I  return  to  America,  although  I  really  have  not  much  per- 
sonal object  in  remaining  here." 

''The  Epirotes  were  very  disappointed  in  being  made  a 
part  of  Albania,  were  they  not?" 

"Ah,  yes,"  sighed  the  stranger.  "Unbearably  so,  for  we 
were  made  a  part  of  an  impossible  political  combination 
which  differs  from  us  from,  almost  every  point  of  view." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  who  may  be  proposed  King 
of  Albania?"  asked  Coste,  with  an  attempt  to  disguise  his 
interest  and  with  another  sinking  of  the  heart  as  he  thought 
of  Magnus. 

"No,  but  whoever  is  King  will  have  to  be  acceptable  to 
the  Epirotes,  and  grant  them  certain  privileges;  otherwise 
Epirus  will  be  ever  in  a  continuous  state  of  revolt,  for  the 
Epirotes  are  thoroughly  resolved  not  to  be  put  under  Mus- 
sulman or  Catholic  influence." 

Coste  reflected  as  he  rolled  a  cigarette  and  lighted  it. 

Here  was  a  chance  for  his -revenge.  Magnus  had  really 
tricked  him  and  he  hated  him  as  he  never  had  hated  before. 
Here  was  evidently,  by  some  excellent  good  fortune,  an  op- 
portunity offered  through  this  new  acquaintance  which  he 
could  turn,  perhaps,  to  good  advantage,  identifying  himself 
with  the  Epirote  movement  and  thus  thwarting,  in  every  way 
possible,  Magnus'  ambitions. 

He  thought  while  the  Epirote  talked  on  and  then  suddenly 
resolved  to  discontinue  the  cruise,  as  the  party  continued  on 
the  round  of  the  ./Egean  Islands  and  remain  in  Athens  to 
perfect  his  plans.  He  felt  that  Magnus  had  suddenly  be- 
come his  enemy.  He  resolved  to  checkmate  any  and  all  of 


REVENGE  79 

his  purposes.  It  would  be  a  long  time  before  the  party  got 
back  to  Venice  and  not  till  then  would  Magnus  have  an  op- 
portunity to  betray  his  foolish  contract  for  the  payment  of 
the  gambling  debts. 

But  how  could  he  abandon  the  party?  What  excuse  could 
he  give  to  his  mother — his  sister — and  above  all,  how  could 
he  extricate  himself  from  the  clutches  of  Magnus? 

A  plan  suddenly  presented  itself  to  him.  He  would  see 
some  physician  and  have  him  certify  that  his  old  wound  had 
developed  complications  which  required  him  to  go  to  a  hos- 
pital. Then  after  the  party  had  left,  he  would  be  perfectly 
free  to  fully  mature  his  program  of  revenge. 

"And  the  Epirote  movement — is  it  carried  on  rather  se- 
cretly?" he  asked,  after  the  plan  flashed  through  his  mind. 

"No,"  answered  the  other,  "because  Epirus  is  contiguous 
territory  to  Greece,  and  the  Greek  attitude  toward  Epirus 
is  a  very  open  secret.  Every  Greek  sympathizes  with  the 
Epirotes.  It  is  quite  amusing,"  he  added,  sipping  his  thick 
Turkish  coffee,  "a  friend  of  mine,  a  major  of  cavalry,  re- 
signed his  commission  in  the  Greek  army  to  join  the  Epirotes. 
So  the  commanding  Greek  general  here  in  Athens  sent  two 
other  officers  over  to  Epirus  to  seek  him  out  and  try  to  in- 
duce him  to  return.  But  after  the  two  officers,  looking  for 
the  truant,  had  found  him,  he  so  enthused  them  with  his 
patriotic  purpose  that  they,  instead  of  inducing  him  to  re- 
turn, resigned  from  the  Greek  army  themselves,  so  that  the 
commanding  general,  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  losing  any 
more  officers,  had  to  accept  all  three  resignations." 

"Is  there  anything  like  the  French  foreign  legion  in  the 
Epirote  movement?"  asked  Coste.  "That  is  to  say,  would 
they  give  a  command,  say  for  a  few  months,  to  an  officer  of 
another  nation?" 

"Why  not?"  returned  the  other.  "Why  not?  It  is  a 
patriotic  movement,  and  if  the  foreign  officer  is  willing  to 
serve  on  the  small  pay  allotted  him,  and  had  the  proper 
credentials,  I  shouldn't  wonder  but  that  a  place  would  be 
found  for  him,  particularly  in  artillery.  Do  you  know  of 
any  one  who  wishes  to  join  the  movement?" 


80  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

Coste  hesitated,  and  the  stranger,  seeming  to  divine  the 
reason  for  his  hesitation,  took  from  a  case  a  card,  on  which 
appeared  the  name : 


CAPITAINE  TOLBI  (LA  VINY) 

d'  Infanterie 

Athenes 


"I  am  very  glad  to  have  your  card  and  sorry  that  I  have 
not  one  to  give  you  in  return,  but  if  it  is  convenient  for  you 
to  call  at  the  Hotel  Grand,  I  will  indeed  be  pleased  to  know 
you  further,"  acknowledged  Coste. 

Some  acquaintances,  fellow  officers  of  Tolbi,  passing  by  in 
brilliant  uniforms  and  clanking  side  arms,  stopped  at  the 
table.  All  were  introduced,  and  Coste  soon  found  himself 
much  at  home  with  his  new-found  acquaintances. 

Finally  Tolbi  with  his  companions  left,  but  Coste  still  re- 
mained, deeply  plunged  in  reflection  as  he  puffed  away  at 
a  strong  cigar. 

"Yes,"  thought  he.  "I  have  found  a  way  to  avenge  my- 
self on  Magnus  to  prevent  him  further  using  my  name  and 
honor.  He  shall  no  longer  own  my  soul.  Yes.  I  will  be 
revenged.  It  will  not  be  he  who  shall  enter  into  the  appoint- 
ment of  the  King  of  Albania.  Miss  American  Dollars  shall 
never  be  duped  as  a  Queen."  Then  his  teeth  ground  with 
a  curse  and  he  struck  his  hand  down  on  the  table  with  an 
unmeasured  force  that  made  the  dishes  rattle. 


XV 
COSTE  DROPS  OUT 

Coste  found  it  easier  than  he  had  anticipated  to  remain 
behind  while  the  others  went  on  an  extended  cruise  of  the 
Cyclades  Islands. 


COSTE  DROPS  OUT  81 

At  first  the  Duchess  and  Cornelia  wished  to  remain  be- 
hind to  attend  him  in  the  hospital  where  Coste  had  caused 
himself  to  be  carried,  but  upon  his  urgent  insistence,  they 
finally  consented  to  go  on  and  then  take  him  back  to  Italy 
with  them  when  they  returned  to  Athens. 

No  sooner  had  they  left  than  Coste  immediately  con- 
valesced from  his  imaginary  relapse  in  such  wise  that  the 
next  morning  he  was  in  a  retired  room  of  a  certain  Greek 
hotel,  earnestly  engaged  in  consultation  with  Tolbi  and  other 
Epirote  officers,  and  that  very  afternoon  set  out  with  them 
for  Epirus. 

To  Coste  there  was  something  glamorous  about  the  ad- 
venture. He  hated  the  Turks  and  anyone  who  was  a  Mus- 
sulman he  considered  as  a  Turk.  It  almost  seemed  to  him 
that  he  was  doing  a  service  to  his  own  country,  in  using  up 
part  of  the  time  of  his  sick  leave  in  aiding  the  Epirotes. 
The  fact  that  the  Epirotes  were  opposing  likewise  a  large 
Catholic  contingent,  did  not  at  all  weigh  in  the  balance 
against  the  Epirotes. 

He  was  surprised  to  find  how  large  was  the  Epirote  mili- 
tary organization  that  had  already  been  effected,  but  the 
artillery  service  to  which  he  had  been  assigned  was  com- 
pelled to  remain  idle  because  the  field  pieces  and  the  am- 
munition of  the  mountain  batteries  had  not  yet  been  received. 

"Guns  for  Epirus!  Yes.  Guns  for  Epirus!  That  is  all 
we  are  waiting  for  now,"  remarked  Tolbi,  "and  once  we 
have  them,  then  you  will  see  how  our  flying  front  goes  for- 
ward; when  they  come,  then  your  revenge  will  commence." 

"My  revenge?"  asked  Coste.  "My  revenge?  What  do 
you  mean?" 

"I  have  often  wanted  to  confess  to  you,"  came  back  Tolbi, 
"that  the  reason  why  we  were  so  eager  to  get  you  in  our 
service  was  because  we  all  know  that  fellow  Magnus  who 
tricked  you.  You  see,  we  have  a  rather  good  secret  serv- 
ice established  among  the  Epirotes  and  when  Magnus,  as 
they  all  call  him,  came  down  into  Albania  the  last  time,  just 
before  he  joined  your  cruise,  it  was  decided  that  he  was  a 
menace  to  the  Epirote  movement.  You  see,  Albania  is  a 


82  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

very  retired  country,  and  strangers  are  shadowed  very 
easily. ' ' 

"What  is  the  game  that  Magnus  is  playing?"  asked  Coste. 

"Oh,  he  wants  to  control  the  development  of  the  coun- 
try so  that  he  can  steal  its  public  franchises.  At  least  that 
is  the  only  reason  we  can  surmise  for  his  intrigue.  If  he 
ever  comes  back  here  again,  he  will  meet  with  a  warm  recep- 
tion, for  he  is  interfering  altogether  too  much  in  our  Epirote 
affairs." 

"Then  the  reason  why  you  have  taken  me  in  your  con- 
fidence is  because  of  my  estrangement  from  Magnus  ? ' '  asked 
Coste. 

' '  Exactly.  I  overheard  your  entire  conversation  in  French 
at  the  restaurant,  which  confirmed  the  previous  information 
I  had  had  of  both  of  you.  The  wonderful  thing  about  Al- 
bania is  that  nearly  every  one  who  goes  in  or  comes  out  of 
it  must  proceed  by  steamer,  for  there  are,  as  you  know,  no 
railways,  and  hence  it  is  very  easy  to  establish  the  identity 
of  our  visitors.  Knowing  Magnus,  we  wondered  all  the  time 
what  part  you  were  being  made  to  play." 

"I  was  foolish,"  returned  Coste,  "to  even  think  for  a 
moment  that  Magnus  would  help  me,  and  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  my  wild  conceit  in  believing  that  American  dollars  would 
go  as  a  dowry  with  the  throne,  I  would  never  have  been 
misled.  Oh,"  he  added  dolefully,  "what  a  preposterous  ass 
I  have  been.  Why,  I  can  hardly  believe  that  I  could  have 
been  so  presumptions  as  to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  that  won- 
derful woman." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Tolbi  in  a  polite  suggestion  for  Coste 
to  continue. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  dreadful  confession  to  make,  but  I  am  sure 
that  I  can  tell  you  in  confidence,  Tolbi,  in  view  of  the  in- 
timacy that  has  sprung  up  between  us  in  our  soldier  life. 
I  actually  thought  that  Magnus  intended  to  marry  me  to 
the  daughter  of  Ward,  the  American  millionaire,  and  then 
put  us  as  King  and  Queen  on  the  throne." 

A  sympathetic  smile  curving  on  to  the  lips  of  Tolbi  en- 
couraged Coste  to  continue. 


COSTE  DROPS  OUT  83 

"Oh,  I  never  would  have  believed  it  had  not  he  actually 
squared  my  gambling  debts  for  me,  amounting  in  all  to  one 
hundred  fifty  thousand  lire.  Now,  he  would  never  have  done 
that  had  he  not  had  an  actual  interest  in  me." 

' '  But  you  rendered  him  some  service,  did  you  not  ? ' '  asked 
Tolbi. 

"Oh,  no.  Nothing  to  speak  of.  He  merely  asked  me  to 
get  invitations  for  him  and  Haiden  on  the  American's 
cruise. ' ' 

"How  much  actual  cash  money  did  he  give  you?"  asked 
Tolbi. 

"In  actual  cash  I  received  twenty  thousand  lire.  The 
rest  he  paid  out  for  my  gambling  debts." 

"How  do  you  know  he  did?"  asked  Tolbi  suspiciously. 

"Well,  because  he  told  me  so." 

Tolbi  tried  to  suppress  a  laugh. 

"I  doubt  if  you  will  ever  find  that  he  has  paid  any  of  it. 
He  is  as  crooked  as  a  ram's  horn  from  the  report  we  have 
of  him." 

"What?"  asked  Coste,  in  a  despairing  voice.  "Do  you 
think  that  I  will  still  have  to  face  those  debts  in  Venice?" 

"I  don't  want  to  say  so,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  all  the 
money  that  he  has  paid  or  ever  will  pay  on  your  account  is 
the  twenty  thousand  lire  which,  considering  the  fact  that  both 
he  and  his  companion  are  having  an  expensive  tour  on  a 
princely  yacht,  is  a  pretty  cheap  passage  money.  But,"  he 
added  as  he  saw  Coste 's  crestfallen  and  dejected  air,  "don't 
feel  bad  about  not  getting  the  kingship,  for  whoever  is  ap- 
pointed King  of  Albania  will  have  thorns  in  his  crown  and 
the  crown  won't  last  long  even  at  that." 

"But  what  is  the  scheme  of  this  rascal  Magnus?  Who 
does  he  propose  to  try  to  put  in  power?" 

"Why,  haven't  you  already  divined  it?" 

Coste  shook  his  head  negatively. 

"Why,  it  is  the  Prince  of  Reisberg. " 

"The  Prince  of  Reisberg,"  exclaimed  Coste. 

"Yes,  the  Prince  of  Reisburg,  who  is  traveling  incognito 
under  the  name  of  Haiden." 


84  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Haiden!"  gasped  Coste.  "And  will  he  be  King?"  and 
a  jealous  clutch  gathered  in  his  throat  as  he  thought  of 
Athena.  "Will  he  be  King,  do  you  think?" 

"Never!"  returned  Tolbi.  "Never!  At  least  not  as  long 
as  there  are  guns  for  Epirus. " 


XVI 
AN  AEGEAN  CRUISE 

Even  to  the  Duchess  and  Cornelia,  who  at  first  felt  lonely 
without  the  Count,  the  cruise  was  wonderful,  carrying  them, 
as  it  did,  from  one  fair  dream  isle  to  another,  over  a  sea 
hung  with  the  golden  veil  of  Grecian  mythology  and  painted 
bright  with  historic  pictures  whose  vivid  colors  are  fadeless. 

Magnus  became  quite  a  different  personality,  and  devel- 
oped a  charm  and  amiability  of  manners  that  greatly  at- 
tracted the  lady  members  of  the  party,  and  before  they  had 
got  down  as  far  as  the  island  of  Melos,  he  was  the  great  mov- 
ing factor  which  controlled  and  directed  the  conduct  of  all 
about  him. 

O'Rourke  continued  to  avoid  Athena,  so  that  Haiden  had 
her  much  to  himself,  and  if,  perchance,  Athena  did  devote 
any  time  to  O'Rourke,  Magnus  was  always  there  to  tell  some 
of  his  stories  and  monopolize  the  conversation,  O'Rourke  ap- 
pearing quite  content  to  have  nothing  to  say. 

Even  Ward  came  under  the  seducive  influence  of  Mag- 
nus, who  daily  by  a  series  of  clever  questionings,  laid  the 
old  man's  soul  bare  dissected  before  him. 

The  office  of  matchmaker  even  in  a  man  like  Magnus  was 
hard  under  the  circumstances.  In  the  first  place,  Ward  had 
to  be  very  carefully  sounded  as  to  whether  he  would  con- 
sider a  son-in-law  of  princely  blood  and  royal  aspirations — , 
secondly,  Magnus  had  to  determine  whether  such  a  person 
would  be  acceptable  to  Athena,  and  thirdly,  he  had  to  bring 
about  that  continual  propinquity  of  association  which  he 
hoped  would  engender  the  emotion  called  love. 


AN  .EGEAN  CRUISE  86 

"Do  you  know,"  began  Magnus  one  day,  alone  with  the 
Duchess,  "I  did  not  believe  when  I  came  on  this  trip  that 
I  would  become  a  witness  to  such  a  beautiful  love  affair, 
as  has  crept  up  between  Haiden  and  Miss  "Ward?" 

"Love  affair?"  asked  the  Duchess,  slightly  raising  her 
eyebrows,  for  even  with  the  polite  intimacy  born  in  the  con- 
tinual association  with  Magnus  on  the  yacht,  her  delicate 
noble  breeding  resented  the  abruptness  of  his  tone  and  re- 
mark on  such  a  fragile  subject  as  love  with  a  direct  indi- 
cation of  the  parties  involved. 

He  shrank  from  her  abjectly ;  then  murmured  something 
about  being  misunderstood. 

Whenever  the  Duchess  showed  the  slightest  irritation 
towards  any  one,  her  whole  nature,  immediately  thereafter, 
reacted  in  a  display  of  the  greatest  kindliness.  Of  this 
amiable  peculiarity  Magnus  was  quick  to  take  his  advantage. 

"You  have  a  very  wonderful  son,"  he  said  soothingly. 
"As  you  know,  we  are  very  dear  friends.  Count  Coste  has 
a  brilliant  mind.  I  have  wanted,  and  may  perhaps  be  able, 
to  do  something  to  gratify  his  well  justified  ambition." 

The  eyes  of  the  Duchess  softened  with  a  mother's  love. 
She  leaned  her  head  slightly  toward  Ma,gnus,  who,  after  tak- 
ing a  few  whiffs  at  his  phantom  cigarette,  continued: 

"Yes.  Your  son  would  make  a  brilliant  military  com- 
mander ;  not  only  of  a  company  or  a  regiment,  but  of  a  whole 
army. ' ' 

A  smile  played  around  the  lips  of  the  Duchess.  She  tilted 
her  chin  in  acknowledgment  of  the  compliment. 

"Are  you  prepared  for  and  will  you  permit  a  great  con- 
fidence ? ' '  asked  Magnus  in  a  low  tone,  leaning  toward  her. 

"Any  confidence  which  concerns  the  future  of  my  son  will 
interest  me,"  she  returned. 

"Well,  then,"  continued  Magnus,  in  a  still  lower  voice, 
"Haiden,  our  companion  on  this  cruise,  is  the  Prince  of 
Reisberg,  and  will  be  made  King  of  Albania." 

The  Duchess  gave  a  start.    "The  Prince  of  Reisburg?" 

"Yes,"  repeated  Magnus  sententiously.  "The  Prince  of 
Reisberg  will  become,  at  no  distant  date,  the  King  of  Al- 


86  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

bania,  and  if  my  plans  go  through,  your  son  will  become 
his  Minister  of  "War." 

A  glad,  bewildered  look  came  into  the  face  of  the  Duchess. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  interest  in  my  son,"  she  remarked 
warmly,  and  then  meditated,  "the  Prince  is  of  the  Haps- 
burgs,  and  is  of  the  stuff  that  Kings  are  made  of.  I  always 
suspected  that  he  was  of  most  noble  lineage." 

"Now,  I  still  further  want  to  continue  my  confidence," 
said  Magnus,  "by  telling  you  that  I  am  satisfied  that  the 
Prince  is  so  desperately  in  love  with  Miss  Ward  that  unless 
his  love  for  her  is  reciprocated  his  life,  for  the  time  being, 
may  be  ruined,  and  he  will  be  unfit  to  assume  the  duties  of 
his  Kingship." 

The  Duchess  inclined  herself  toward  Magnus  sympathetic- 
ally, for  every  tale  of  love  is  plausible  to  a  woman. 

"Now,"  continued  Magnus,  "you  can  do  a  great  favor 
to  me,  and  place  the  Prince  under  obligations  to  you  as 
well  as  Miss  Ward,  while  at  the  same  time  establishing  your 
son  handsomely  for  life,  if  you  will  only  help  me  overcome 
any  scruples  which  both  Mr.  Ward  and  his  daughter  have 
against  marrying  nobility." 

"In  what  way  can  I  assist  you?"  asked  the  Duchess,  now 
intensely  interested. 

"Well,"  responded  Magnus  slowly  and  ponderously,  "at 
dinner  to-night  I  am  going  to  announce  the  fact  that  our 
cicerone  and  companion,  Haiden,  is  none  other  than  the 
Prince  of  Reisberg.  This  will  probably  mean  that  the  old 
man  and  his  daughter  will  not  consider  favorably  the  suit 
for  her  affection,  which  thus  far  has  been  progressing  suc- 
cessfully. ' ' 

"They  would  indeed  make  a  splendid  royal  pair,"  com- 
mented the  Duchess,  in  whom  both  the  instinct  of  match- 
making and  devotion  to  royalty  were  strong. 

"Yes,  you  can  contribute  to  their  happiness,"  continued 
Magnus,  "and  do  Albania  a  great  good  by  helping  the  match 
along. ' ' 

"I  am  willing,"  she  responded  calmly  and  thinking  with 
a  mother's  love,  of  the  benefit  which  would  accrue  to  her  son. 


TRIALISM  87 

"Well,  it  is  only  a  simple  matter.  All  you  have  to  do  is 
to  suggest  at  any  appropriate  time  to  the  father,  that  his 
daughter's  happiness  depends  upon  her  marrying  the  Prince, 
and  at  the  same  time  give  the  daughter  to  understand  that 
it  is  her  father's  wish  that  she  marry  the  Prince.  I  will 
see  to  the  rest." 

"But  is  this  actually  the  state  of  affairs?"  asked  the 
Duchess  with  her  keen  sense  of  honor. 

"Yes,"  responded  Magnus  convincingly.  "I  am  sure — , 
I  am  absolutely  certain — ,  that  the  lives  of  both  of  these 
young  people  will  be  forever  ruined  sentimentally  if  they 
do  not  marry." 

The  Duchess  reflected.  .  .  .  She  resented  somewhat  the  in- 
fluence that  she  saw  Magnus  was  getting  over  her,  but  she 
really  knew  little  about  men  and  hence  had  little  fear  of 
their  control  over  her.  Magnus  himself  was  a  nobleman  and 
had  occupied  the  highest  position  of  diplomatic  service  and 
in  an  Imperial  Ministry.  But  still  as  she  reflected,  she 
vacillated  and  for  a  long  moment  looked  off  over  the  depth 
of  blue  sea  framed  on  the  horizon  by  the  shining  edges  of 
the  mountains. 

"Is  this — ,  is  this — ,  perfectly  honorable?" 

"Not  only  honorable,"  said  Magnus  solemnly,  "but  I  be- 
lieve it  to  be  a  duty — ,  a  duty  of  honor,  from  a  noble  woman 
to  a  noble  man." 

"Then — ,  then — ,  I  will  do  it,"  declared  the  Duchess. 

But  tears  came  to  her  eyes  as  she  turned  and  then  abruptly 
left. 


XVII 
TRIALISM 

Coste  did  not  doubt  but  that  Magnus  would  be  able  to 
carry  out  his  plan  to  name  the  King  of  Albania.  The  sug- 
gestion on  the  part  of  Tolbi  that  Magnus  had  deceived  him 
as  to  paying  up  the  gambling  debts  did  not  make  him  any 


88  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

the  less  certain  that  Magnus  was  a  person  of  great  political 
strength  and  power. 

But  as  he  thought  the  matter  over  he  became  more  and 
more  convinced  that  Tolbi  was  right  in  saying  that  the  gam- 
bling debts  had  not  been  paid  and  in  the  face  of  substan- 
tial suspicion  of  such  condition,  he  was  resolved  on  one  thing : 
that  he  would  never  return  to  Venice  until  he  had  the  money 
to  pay  them,  for  without  their  liquidation  his  life  would  be 
forever  unhappy  and  miserable.  But  where  else  could  he 
hide  himself,  except  in  that  particular  position  where  he 
then  found  himself  as  an  officer  of  the  Epirotes,  and  where 
could  he  have  a  more  honorable  occupation  during  the  period 
when  he  was  waiting  for  things  to  clear  up?  ...  His  fel- 
low officers  were  a  gallant,  courageous  lot,  and  had  all  taken 
a  great  liking  to  him.  He  had  been  up  to  Argyrocastro,  the 
capital  seat  of  the  Epirote  revolutionary  government,  and 
was  well  and  favorably  acquainted  with  the  main  movers  of 
the  uprising. 

He  still  reflected  that  he  loved  Athena — loved  her  more 
than  his  own  life — loved  her  enough  to  even  sacrifice  his 
own  word  of  honor,  something  that  no  one  in  his  family  had 
done  during  the  nine  hundred  years  of  their  unbroken  peer- 
age. It  was  for  Athena  and  for  his  mother  and  sister  that 
he  wanted  to  avoid  disgrace — that  terrible  disgrace  and  dis- 
honor which,  if  it  could  not  be  entirely  avoided,  could  only 
be  veiled  by  death  itself.  Again  and  again  he  condemned 
himself  for  having  been  led  into  the  folly  of  believing  that 
Magnus  intended  to  make  him  King  of  Albania.  But  why 
not?  he  argued  contradictorily.  There  was  no  family  in 
Europe  whose  influence  was  greater  nor  whose  blood  was 
purer,  and  Magnus,  himself,  had  once  told  him  that  the 
blood  of  kings  and  emperors  ran  in  his  veins.  Yes,  Mag- 
nus could  have  crowned  him  King  had  he  wished;  but  he 
had  not  so  wished.  .  .  .  Why?  Perhaps  because  he,  Coste, 
was  an  Italian.  Magnus,  as  an  Austrian,  representing  Aus- 
trian interests,  would,  as  he  reflected,  never  have  dreamt 
of  allowing  an  Italian  to  occupy  the  Albanian  throne,  for 
Austria  was  already  jealous  of  the  Italian  colonists'  immi- 
gration to  Albania  and  looked  upon  it  with  suspicion. 


TRIALISM  89 

"Yes,"  he  finally  reflected.  "I  have  been  ridiculously 
foolish.  The  madness  of  gaming  and  of  love  have  upset  my 
judgment.  Magnus  believed  and  still  believes  that  Archduke 
Francis  Ferdinand,  heir  apparent  to  the  Austrian-Hun- 
garian Imperial  crown,  will  live  to  carry  out  his  dream  of 
"trialism, "  in  reconstituting  the  Empire  out  of  three  instead 
of  two  populations,  adding  the  Slav  to  the  German  and  Mag- 
yar— ,  a  dream  which  may  be  eventually  realized  by  the 
crushing  force  of  the  Imperial  power  bringing  all  the  Slavs 
of  the  Balkans  into  a  unit  with  those  already  under  the 
control  of  Austria." 

In  this  light  the  whole  conduct  of  Magnus  became  clearer 
to  Coste 's  mind,  as  he  talked  the  matter  over  with  Tolbi  and 
his  other  fellow  Epirote  officers.  Magnus  was  playing  a  po- 
litical game  for  some  unscrupulous  syndicate  with  which  to 
loot  Albania  of  her  first  franchise  gifts  and  privileges. 

"Yes,"  thought  Coste,  as  he  came  to  this  conclusion. 
"Yes.  That  is  his  plan,  and  it  must  be  checkmated;  it  must 
be  frustrated.  But  how?" 

Freely  and  without  reserve  he  told  the  head  officers  of 
the  Epirote  administration  all  that  he  knew  about  Magnus 
and  the  chief  of  them  brought  the  first  comfort  to  Coste  when 
he  declared : 

"Whoever  is  appointed  King  of  Albania  will  have  to 
answer  for  his  conduct  before  the  leveled  rifles  of  the 
•Epirotes.  If  Magnus  believes  that  he  has  found  a  way  of 
uniting  the  Moslems  of  Valona  with  the  Catholic  element 
and  the  Greek  Christians  of  Epirus,  he  will  find  that  it  will 
not  be  by  the  arbitrary  appointment  of  a  royal  personage 
by  the  sextuple  group  of  powers.  There  is  only  one  way 
to  bring  peace  to  Albania,  and  that  is  by  granting  the 
Epirotes  their  practical  autonomy." 

"If  Magnus  really  represents  the  Archduke  Francis  Ferdi- 
nand, we  will  be  ready  to  wrap  the  knuckles  of  Austria 
also.  For  we  will  seek  the  welfare  of  Epirus  to  our  death." 

The  final  words  impressed  and  encouraged  Coste.  With 
Italian  impulsiveness  he  declared : 

"Yes.  For  the  welfare  of  Epirus,  and  I  will  be  with  you 
even  to  death." 


90  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

And  then  he  fell  to  cursing  Magnus  and  he  cursed  him 
hellishly;  but  had  Coste  really  known  what  most  inspired 
Magnus  to  seek  the  Albanian  throne  for  the  Prince  of  Reis- 
berg,  perhaps  there  might  have  been  just  a  whit  less  of 
violence  in  his  final  denunciation  of  Magnus  as  "a  creature 
without  a  single  human  emotion  for  good." 


XVIII 
MOUNTAIN  ARTILLERY 

Coste,  with  his  long  military  training,  had  gained  the  en- 
tire confidence  and  esteem  of  the  provisional  Epirote  gov- 
ernment, and  when  the  guns  finally  came,  he  was  assigned 
in  command  of  a  battery. 

To  one  who  had  had  the  actual  experiences  in  warfare 
as  had  he,  the  chances  of  ever  making  use  of  the  single  gun 
which  was  allotted  to  him  as  the  first  assignment  to  his  bat- 
tery seemed  rather  remote,  for  after  he  had  placed  it  in  the 
position  overlooking  a  defile  of  the  mountain,  and  in  a 
wilderness  all  by  itself,  he  was  inclined  to  doubt  the  mental 
soundness  of  his  superiors  who  had  directed  the  planting 
of  cannon  in  that  particular  place,  since  it  was  in  an  en- 
tirely uninhabited  position  and,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  distant 
from  any  points  of  possible  attack. 

But  it  was  a  new  cannon,  one  of  the  splendid  German 
field  pieces  which  he  had  always  preferred  to  the  heavier 
French  and  English  pattern,  and  he  busied  himself  in 
disciplining  and  training  his  men  and  in  making  prepara- 
tions for  battle  just  as  if  there  were  an  immediate  and  im- 
minent attack  expected  from  the  Moslems. 

There  was  one  thing,  however,  that  Coste  failed  to  do. 
Belonging,  as  he  had  theretofore,  to  the  perfected  Italian 
military  organization,  in  the  mountain  isolation  of  his 
Epirote  command  it  did  not,  of  course,  occur  to  him  that 
he  would  have  to  do  his  own  reconnoitering.  So  he  never 
knew,  nor  did  any  of  his  command  know,  that  just  across 


MOUNTAIN  ARTILLERY  91 

the  deep  valley  before  him  and  down  towards  the  road  which 
led  to  Greek  territory,  another  gun  was  being  planted.  Not 
a  gun  for  Epirus;  but  a  gun  against  it,  and  a  gun  of  a 
longer  range  and  of  heavier  fashion  and  manufacture.  No, 
Coste  knew  nothing  about  the  danger,  so  secretly  had  the 
opposing  gun  been  put  in  its  position.  .  .  .  Day  after  day, 
although  its  burnished  muzzle  gaped  out  at  him  through  its 
concealed  mounting  in  the  rocks,  and  the  field  glasses  of  the 
enemy  took  in  every  detail  of  his  position,  he  was  entirely 
unaware  of  it.  Both  opposing  batteries,  however,  were  harm- 
less to  each  other,  for  neither  had  ammunition  with  which 
to  dare  the  betrayal  of  their  presence,  and  the  enemy's  ad- 
vantage was  thus  for  the  time  being  of  no  avail. 

In  his  irksome  moments  of  idleness,  Coste 's  mind  often 
went  back  to  the  cruising  party.  He  wondered  what  they 
were  all  doing.  He  had  left  a  letter  at  Athens  for  his  mother 
on  her  return,  telling  her  that  he  would  himself  come  back 
to  Venice  via  the  Dalmatian  coast.  He  was  happy  in  the 
thought  that  the  party  would  not  go  to  Previsa  to  return 
to  the  yacht,  but  that  their  plans  would  make  them  sail  from 
Patras  directly  over  to  Brindisi,  from  where  his  mother  and 
sister  would  proceed  home  by  rail. 

As  for  his  own  plans,  .  .  .  why,  they  were  those  of  all 
soldiers;  plans  that  never  went  any  farther  than  the  muz- 
zle of  their  guns,  but  plans  that  the  slightest  incident  might 
turn  into  the  quick  approach  of  death. 

Late  that  afternoon  Coste  had  gone  up  on  the  hillside  be- 
hind his  battery  of  a  single  gun  and  with  the  aid  of  his 
field  glasses  was  surveying  and  sketching  the  surrounding 
country.  A  sudden  gleam  half  way  down  on  the  opposite 
mountain  caught  his  eye.  He  watched  it  and  saw  that  the 
gleam  moved  along  about  as  fast  as  a  man  walks,  and  then 
suddenly,  in  a  break  in  the  rocks,  he  saw  that  it  came  from 
a  carbine  held  close  to  the  side  of  a  uniformed  man — uni- 
formed in  the  fustinella  skirt  and  Moslem  fezs.  And  then 
as  he  still  looked,  he  saw  other  soldiers  working  about  some- 
thing that  he  felt  must  be  a  field  piece. 

A  thrill  of  excitement  shot  through  him  as  he  rushed  down 


92  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

to  his  own  battery.  There  was  no  telephone  communica- 
tion. All  messages  had  to  be  carried  by  couriers,  but  he 
hastily  scribbled  out  a  letter  to  headquarters,  recounting 
the  details  of  what  he  had  seen  and  asking  for  information 
and  orders. 

The  couriers  had  not  been  gone  long  before  two  of  his 
own  men  came  in  bringing  a  peasant  captive,  and  it  was 
from  this  peasant  that  Coste  heard  that  the  Moslems  had 
planted  their  guns  opposite  his,  even  prior  to  his  own  com- 
ing, in  order  to  control  the  defile,  but  they  were  unable  to 
use  it  on  account  of  lack  of  ammunition. 

"When  will  their  ammunition  arrive?"  asked  Coste  to  an 
interpreter. 

"It  is  hourly  expected,"  he  responded. 

Coste  knew  that  there  was  only  one  way  by  which  it  could 
come,  for  there  was  only  one  road  in  all  the  region  about 
and  that  was  controlled  by  his  own  cannon. 

Anxiously  he  awaited  the  return  of  the  courier,  giving 
him  authority  from  his  superiors  to  take  the  cannon  by  as- 
sault in  case  the  peasant's  information  was  correct.  A  light 
supply  of  shells  reached  him  and  he  longed  for  night  to 
come  so  that  under  its  cover  he  might  reconnoiter  and  when 
fully  informed  act  accordingly. 

As  he  thus  reflected,  a  cloud  of  dust  appeared  way  off 
at  the  final  perspective  of  the  single  road.  Through  his 
glasses  he  descried  two  auto  cars  approaching,  the  first  that 
he  had  seen  since  he  had  placed  his  battery  there.  He  felt 
satisfied  that  they  could  not  belong  to  the  Epirotes,  and  sud- 
denly convinced  himself  that  they  were  bringing  the  am- 
munition for  the  battery  of  the  enemy  opposite. 

Yes,  there  was  now  no  longer  time  to  wait.  He  must  act 
quickly  and  upon  his  own  initiative,  for  the  Moslem  bat- 
tery must  be  immediately  destroyed  before  the  ammunition 
had  been  supplied  to  it. 


A  MISTAKE  AND  A  GUN  93 


XIX 
A  MISTAKE  AND  A  GUN 


Coste's  first  shot  belched  the  valley  full  of  thunder;  but 
there  was  no  answering  fire  from  the  enemy.  He  retook 
his  range  and  again  fired,  and  the  smash  of  the  shell  im- 
mediately above  the  masked  battery  brought  from  him  a 
cry  of  joy. 

Suddenly  he  saw  the  battery  pulled  out  from  its  position 
and  changed  so  quickly  that  before  he  could  again  fire  it 
was  again  concealed  behind  the  rocks. 

He  ordered  the  company  of  infantry  attached  to  his  bat- 
tery to  prepare  for  the  charge,  and  crawling  upon  their  bel- 
lies down  the  side  of  the  mountain,  they  took  their  align- 
ment in  extended  order,  awaiting  his  further  command. 

Suddenly  the  whirr  and  spit  of  a  rifle  volley  spattered 
around  him,  followed  by  its  echoing  detonation,  .  .  .  then 
when  the  auto  cars  were  down  directly  at  the  entrance  of 
the  defile,  he  saw  a  shell  plow  up  the  road  before  them, — 
a  shell  that  came  from  the  enemy's  gun;  then  he  knew  that 
the  auto  cars  were  not  of  the  enemy,  for  at  the  first  shot 
the  two  cars  stopped  under  the  shelter.  .  .  .  Watching  with 
his  field  glasses,  as  he  gave  the  command  to  prepare  to  fire, 
he  saw  the  occupants  of  the  cars  excitedly  piling  out,  and 
with  a  single  glance  through  the  lens,  hardly  daring  to  be- 
lieve his  eyes,  he  saw  that  the  autos  contained  Ward's  whole 
cruising  party  and  that  his  mother,  his  sister  and  Athena 
were  being  hurried  behind  the  shelter  of  the  rocks  by  Ward, 
Haiden  and  Magnus. 

He  felt  dazed  as  if  suddenly  waking  from  a  vivid  dream. 
Then  another  shell  exploded  upon  the  rocks,  behind  which 
the  party  had  concealed  themselves.  Even  then  he  could 
hardly  realize  it  possible,  that  those  he  held  dearest  in  life 
were  exposed  to  those  terrible  instruments  of  death.  .  .  . 
For  a  moment  his  mind  could  not  react  upon  a  single  one 
of  all  the  details  of  the  awful  happening.  Then  the  turbu- 


94  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

lence  of  his  thought  broke  like  a  wave  rippling  outward, 
leaving  his  mind  calm  and  unruffled. 

Yes.  He  understood  now.  The  enemy  had  believed  that 
the  auto  cars  were  bringing  ammunition  to  him  as  he  himself 
had  believed  that  they  were  bringing  it  to  the  enemy. 

It  was  hard  for  him  to  get  the  new  range.  Already  he 
had  wasted  half  a  dozen  of  his  precious  shots  without  get- 
ting a  single  one  in  reply.  Evidently  the  enemy  believed 
that  the  autos  were  more  important  than  a  cannon  or  per- 
haps they  were  again  still  without  ammunition. 

Suddenly  he  saw  the  whole  world  grow  red  in  a  terrible 
crash  and  everything  bent  over  and  fell  before  him,  leav- 
ing him  standing  alone  in  the  empty  dizzying  space.  He 
commenced  to  float  through  the  air,  it  seemed,  still  with 
his  field  glasses  to  his  eyes,  looking  down  upon  the  terrified 
faces  of  his  mother,  his  sister  and  Athena,  who  were  crying 
to  him  for  help.  Then  he  felt  the  wet  outpour  of  his  own 
blood  and  all  grew  dark  before  him. 


XX 

THE  FIGURE  IN  GREY 

When  the  enemy  did  respond  to  Coste's  battery,  with 
deadly  accuracy  it  planted  a  shrapnel  directly  above  it,  and 
the  rain  of  bullets  from  the  bursting  shell  sent  to  the 
ground  in  a  bloody  heap,  half  of  the  whole  battery.  Among 
them  was  Coste. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  infantry  still  safely  lying  be- 
neath the  shelter  of  the  rocks,  all  would  have  retreated  and 
abandoned  the  position,  so  suddenly  had  the  deadly  work 
demoralized  all. 

Winding  up  from  the  road  beneath,  a  grey-clad  figure 
came,  whose  form  at  times  was  almost  lost  in  the  grey  of 
the  rocks.  By  springs  and  bounds  it  came  up  the  hill,  until 
finally  a  voice  rang  out,  clear  and  resolute,  calm  and  un- 
disturbed : 


THE  FIGURE  IN  GREY  95 

"Qui  parla  Italiano?"  and  then  after  a  pause: 

"Who  speaks  English?  Sono  il  suo  amico.  I  am  your 
friend — an  American." 

A  head  popped  up  from  behind  a  rock  from  which  gleamed 
the  line  of  a  rifle  and  responded  in  English: 

"I  speak  English." 

"Then  come  quickly,"  responded  the  grey  figure.  "Lead 
me  to  your  officer." 

The  volunteer  wriggled  upward  to  where  the  grey  fig- 
ure calmly  stood  waiting  and  together  they  crouched  low  as 
they  went  to  the  mass  of  dead  and  wounded  behind  the 
ordnance. 

"Ah.  He  is  dead — our  Captain, — the  other  officers  also," 
exclaimed  the  volunteer,  as  he  pointed  down  to  the  pile 
of  bodies. 

The  grey  figure  snapped  off  his  coat,  and  reaching  down, 
quickly  but  tenderly  disengaged  the  blood  stained  uniform 
from  a  dead  officer  who  laid  before  him,  and  then  buckling 
on  the  side  arm,  cried  out: 

"Then  call  to  them  all  and  tell  them  to  remain  as  they 
are  until  I  command  them.  Interpret  in  Greek  as  I  go 
along,"  he  continued.  "Put  these  men  in  shelter,"  point- 
ing towards  the  dead  and  wounded.  "Tell  the  gunners  to 
come  on.  I,  myself,  will  load,"  and  in  a  moment  his  sinewy 
brown  hands  had  slipped  the  shining  cartridge  into  place  and 
with  a  quick  adjustment  of  the  range  finder,  the  shot  burst 
out. 

Little  by  little  what  was  left  of  the  battery  was  settled 
around  the  new  commander  in  a  marvelous  working  order 
born  in  the  desperation  of  the  moment  and  the  stocky  fig- 
ure behind  the  gun  planted  shell  after  shell  with  deadly 
accuracy  upon  the  battery  opposite. 

Finally  a  line  of  fustinellas  was  seen  running  towards  the 
autos  and  dropping  down  concealed  behind  stones,  fired  vol- 
leys towards  where  the  party  was  still  concealed  behind  the 
rocks. 

' '  Shrapnel  now ! ' '  yelled  the  new  commander.  ' '  Shrapnel ! 
We  must  take  the  gun  by  assault  or  they  will  murder  those 


96  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

women  with  their  rifle  fire.  Tell  them,  'shrapnel,' — to  load 
and  aim  as  I  lead  the  advance.  Fire  high  so  that  we  will 
be  always  safe." 

He  thrust  off  the  bloody  coat  of  uniform  and,  rolling  up 
his  sleeves,  pulled  the  sabre  from  its  scabbard. 

"Every  time  I  look  back  and  yell,  shrapnel  for  them — 
shrapnel.  Tell  them  that, — and  you  come  with  me  to  give 
my  orders,"  he  cried  to  the  interpreter. 

At  the  head  of  the  platoon  he  pressed  forward  to  ad- 
vance— and  then  to  cover,  running  forward  and  then  drop- 
ping, yard  by  yard  nearer,  down  through  the  valley — upon 
the  other  side — always  nearer. 

A  volley  crashed  out  before  them,  but  it  was  too  high.  It 
did  not  stop  a  single  man.  Another  volley  and  a  man 
dropped.  Another  volley  and  two  more  dropped,  but  still 
on  and  upward,  with  that  grey  figure  always  ahead  of  them 
with  waving  sabre,  turning  now  and  then  to  beckon  onward. 

And  then  down  behind  the  rocks  again,  waiting  for  that 
final  desperate  plunge  forward.  .  .  . 

"Ready,  men!  Now  with  the  bayonets!  Go  right  through 
them!"  And  as  they  followed  close  behind  he  knew  that 
his  own  action  was  guiding  them  on. 

Another  volley  crashed ;  then  in  a  twinkling  the  grey  fig- 
ure had  led  them  right  up  to  the  guns,  and  was  scattering 
all  before  him  with  lightning-like  blows  from  the  sabre,  his 
arms  and  face  splashed  with  blood,  his  mouth  open  in  a 
wild  frenzy  as  he  still  waved  his  sabre,  beckoning  them — 
urging  them — until,  with  one  final  desperate  mad  lead,  like 
a  magnet  he  drew  the  gasping  men  after  him  and  the  bat- 
tery was  his. 

Then,  leaning  on  his  sabre  and  striving  to  regain  his 
breath,  he  held  one  hand  up  to  his  bleeding  head  and  forced 
the  words: 

"Send  the  men  down  to  save  the  women — ,  bring  them  to 
me !  Bring  them  to  me,  that  I  may  know  that  they  are 
safe." 

They  rushed  down  the  hill  to  do  his  bidding,  and  when 
the  women  were  brought,  with  Haiden,  Magnus  and  Ward, 


COUP  D'ETAT  97 

Athena  gave  a  cry  of  terror,  and  rushing  forward,  put  her 
arms  about  the  blood  stained  figure,  whose  face  was  streaked 
and  splashed  with  red. 

"Oh,  father!"  she  cried.  "He  is  dying!  He  is  dying, 
and  he  saved  us." 

There  was  a  thrill  in  the  old  man's  voice  as  he,  too,  came 
forward  to  support  O'Rourke,  saying: 

"Just  like  his  father — just  like  his  father." 


XXI 

COUP  D'ETAT 

Magnus  had  a  perfect  genius  for  political  intrigue  and 
had  he  not  also  had  genius  for  the  invention  of  great  schemes 
of  evil  he  would  have  proven  to  be  one  of  the  master  minds, 
not  only  of  his  own  country,  but  helpful  perhaps  in  a  large 
measure  to  the  peace  and  harmony  of  all  Europe. 

It  was  this  genius  for  the  invention  of  evil,  or,  let  us  call 
it,  this  political  mischief-making  propensity,  which  had  cast 
him  out  from  the  high  councils  of  the  Imperial  Cabinet  and 
left  him  as  a  sort  of  a  political  ghost  to  haunt  the  thresholds 
of  those  high  in  power. 

Thus  he  had  become  a  sort  of  a  back  stairs,  court  in- 
triguant, whose  ambition  had  descended  and  found  its  dis- 
quieting level  as  a  franchise  bunk  promoter  and,  in  the  in- 
stance of  this  story,  a  matrimonial  speculator  for  a  fourth- 
rate  throne. 

But  there  was  one  thing  about  Magnus  which  had  always 
made  him  admired  among  men.  He  was  consistent  even  in 
his  inconsistency.  When  he  put  his  hand  to  the  plow  he 
would  follow  on  until  the  mule  dropped,  even  though  he 
went  in  zigzags. 

Then  there  was  a  core  of  courage  in  Magnus — the  cour- 
age of  the  cracksmen  who  bores,  drills,  and  hammers  away 
for  hours  through  adamant  steel,  not  knowing  whether  the 
treasure  may  or  may  not  be  found  within. 


98  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

Ordinarily  a  man  who  knew  that  conditions  were,  po- 
litically, as  disturbed  as  they  were  in  Albania  would  have 
given  up  all  hope  of  evolving  out  of  European  diplomatic 
frumpery  and  treaty — puppet  playing,  such  an  elaborate 
scheme  as  that  of  nominating  a  King  for  Albania  even  after 
he  had  discovered  and  found  for  him  a  rich  wife. 

For  anyone  else  to  propose  such  a  thing  except  Magnus, 
even  to  the  susceptible  boot  lickers  about  the  court  of 
Vienna,  would  have  appeared  sheer  madness,  but  Magnus 
had  actually  succeeded  with  his  plausible  arguments  in  ob- 
taining almost  sufficient  preliminary  funds  from  those  who 
had  axes  to  grind,  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  ridiculous 
plan. 

And  Magnus  had  so  long  nourished  those  plans  that  he, 
himself,  commenced  to  believe  in  their  eventual  realization; 
plans  which,  as  you  will  see,  were  not  entirely  inspired  by 
sordid  motives. 

Haiden  was  not  his  accomplice  as  would  be  supposed.  In 
fact,  it  was  not  even  in  a  remote  way  that  Haiden,  in  his 
lack  of  conceit,  could  have  conceived  the  possibility  of 
kingly  honors  being  thrust  upon  him.  Haiden  was  made 
of  different  stuff.  But  to  Magnus  it  still  seemed  as  though 
everything  had  been  going  along  smoothly  to  work  out  suc- 
cess for  his  plans,  until  that  eventful  day  when  the  party 
had  concluded  to  motor  over  from  the  Greek  frontier  to 
Previsa  to  rejoin  the  yacht  there  rather  than  double  back 
to  Patras. 

The  artillery  duel,  however,  for  the  time  being,  had 
thwarted  Magnus'  plan,  which  would  have  otherwise,  he 
believed,  progressed  successfully  under  the  match-making  as- 
sistance of  the  Duchess. 

Coste  had  not  been  killed,  but  was  in  a  precariously 
wounded  condition,  as  well  as  O'Rourke.  So  after  the 
Epirote  reinforcements  had  finally  rescued  the  cruising 
party  and  delivered  it  from  danger,  they  were  all  taken  to 
the  yacht  at  Previsa,  where,  upon  a  suggestion  from  Mag- 
nus, they  proceeded  to  Abazzia. 

Magnus  was  made  of  that  peculiarly  heavy  timber  which, 


COUP  D'ETAT  99 

although  straight  grained  without,  is  crooked  in  its  heart 
to  the  point  of  a  knotty  hardness.  Then  he  was  also  ob- 
durately unyielding,  and  as  the  yacht  proceeded  on  to  Abaz- 
zia,  he  firmly  decided  to  put  the  matrimonial  coup  through 
after  all,  at  all  hazards  and  at  all  costs,  as  soon  as  Athena 
and  the  Duchess  recovered  sufficiently  from  their  nervous 
shock  to  again  be  susceptible  to  his  influence. 

Shifting  his  phantom  cigarette  from  one  side  to  the  other 
of  his  thin  lips,  as  he  whiffed  at  the  menthol,  he  cudgelled 
his  brain  to  finally  bring  about  a  better  play  for  the  ac- 
complishment of  his  plans. 

A  storm  blew  so  heavily  between  Bussi  and  Lissa  that 
they  took  shelter  in  the  town  of  Camisa,  from  whose  almost 
perpendicular  and  scanty  fields  the  sardine  fishers  eked  out 
their  scanty  fare.  The  ribbed  mountains,  bellying  down- 
ward and  mottled  with  scant  shrubs,  stood  out  barren  in 
bald  and  ashen  heights,  all  of  which  did  not  make  a  very 
agreeable  picture  to  Magnus  in  his  intense  desire  to  get 
to  Abazzia. 

At  length  his  eyes  were  gladdened  when,  after  a  two  days' 
wait,  they  left  behind  them  Bussi  with  its  humble  roofs 
agleam  in  the  rising  sun  and  were  soon  approaching  Fuma, 
where  the  sea  about  was  dotted  with  feluccas,  their  sails 
as  brilliant  as  Joseph's  coat  of  many  colors,  the  huge  pointed 
canvases  holding  up  the  bouncing  hulks  like  a  hawk  carry- 
ing its  prey. 

Magnus  looked  at  them  idly.  A  felucca  passed  near  them, 
crowded  with  a  black  line  of  peasant  passengers.  He  gave 
a  little  nervous  gesture  with  his  hands — ,  yes,  nervous,  for 
even  iron-nerved  Magnus  was  at  length  becoming  nervous 
under  the  strain  of  his  mischief-making,  and  the  admission 
that  he  was  nearing  the  home  land  with  none  of  his  plans 
accomplished. 

He  walked  forward  to  the  skipper's  bridge  while  the  yacht 
was  slowed  down  to  take  on  board  the  inspection  officers,  and 
approaching  the  first  who  appeared,  asked  for  the  Daily 
Journal,  which  stuck  out  of  the  officer's  pocket. 

At  the   very   first  sight  of  the   headlines,   Magnus'   face 


100  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

paled,  and,  half  staggering,  he  fell  limply  into  the  chair 
nearest  him,  the  paper  still  clutched  in  his  hands,  his  eyes 
greedily  devouring  the  lines  which  dizzied  him,  although 
he  still  read  on — read  on  for  some  moments,  oblivious  of 
what  was  going  on  about.  Then  casting  the  paper  aside 
angrily,  he  arose  and  stood  looking  out  upon  the  water,  his 
hands  clinching  each  other  violently  behind  his  back. 

Then  he  shifted  his  phantom  cigarette  deeper  in  his 
mouth,  and  a  wicked  smile  of  resignation  came  over  his 
face — the  grey,  sickly  smile  of  the  gambler  who  has  lost  his 
last  vestige  of  honor  and  credit  in  a  final  desperate  play. 

For  he  had  read  of  the  terrible  happenings  of  the  last, 
few  days  during  their  journey  up  from  Patras  and  their 
isolation  at  Camisa,  and  he  knew  that  the  Archduke  Ferdi- 
nand had  been  assassinated  and  that  all  Europe  was  about 
to  plunge  headlong  into  the  greatest  war  the  world  had 
ever  known — a  war  whose  schemes  were  so  gigantic  as  to 
pop  open  like  a  tiny  bubble — the  petty  little  ambitions  which 
he  had  framed  up  for  himself  and  for  Albania. 


BOOK  TWO 


i 

MAGNUS  PLANS  AGAIN 


Although  Magnus  was  almost  convinced  that  the  game 
was  up  as  far  as  the  throne  of  Albania  was  concerned,  there 
was  still  enough  of  the  unreasonable  gambler's  doggedness 
left  in  him  to  make  him  believe  that  in  some  way  luck  would 
turn.  Yes,  would  turn  if  he  could  only  hold  on  to  his 
quarry,  for  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  disturbed  by  any  casual 
interferences  in  his  plans  as  long  as  there  was  still  daylight 
left  to  follow  them  through. 

Although  the  appointment  of  Prince  William  of  Weid 
might  have  been  regarded  by  any  other  save  Magnus  as  a 
direct  frustration  of  his  own  plan,  he,  himself,  with  his  far- 
sightedness, passed  it  by  as  a  mere  trifling  episode,  a  mere 
provisional  appointment  which,  when  it  was  finally  termi- 
nated, would  add  just  so  much  the  more  to  the  success  of 
his  own  appointee's  administration,  for  he  looked  upon  the 
appointment  of  the  King  of  Albania  something  in  the  way 
that  certain  Latin-American  diplomats  look  upon  the  elec- 
tion of  the  President  of  a  Latin-American  Republic — ,  a 
passing  but  powerful  authority,  in  the  short  duration  of 
whose  scope  a  great  harvest  of  graft  could  be  realized. 

But  he  was  too  familiar  with  conditions  in  Europe  not  to 
know  that  the  conflagration  which  had  been  started  by  the 
assassination  of  Archduke  Ferdinand,  was  not  the  cause, 
but  a  mere  episode  in  the  casus  belli,  and  would  burst  out 
all  over  the  whole  planet  in  a  devouring  fury,  such  as  the 
world  had  never  before  known.  The  Powers  upon  whose 
aid  he  had  counted  for  the  appointment  of  the  King  of  Al- 
bania were  now  at  war  with  one  another,  and  the  syndicate 

101 


102  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

with  which  he  had  a  secretive  yet  positive  agreement  to  bond 
the  franchises  of  that  country,  once  that  he  had  secured 
them,  was  now  panic  stricken,  scattered  out  in  the  different 
money  centers  of  the  warring  powers,  while  he,  himself,  be- 
came practically  penniless,  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  what 
little  still  remained  of  his  once  large  fortune  was  invested 
in  securities,  unproductive  and  unsaleable  by  reason  of  the 
war. 

He  congratulated  himself  that  his  previous  plan  had  not 
gone  to  the  actual  extreme  of  having  Haiden  propose  to 
Athena,  And  that  he  had  let  none  other  save  the  Duchess 
know  of  his  plan,  for  had  even  Haiden  have  surmised  it,  he 
would  have  been  in  a  pretty  mess.  He  was  pleased  to  think 
that  thus  far  he  had  done  nothing  to  cause  "Ward  to  lose 
confidence  in  him,  and  since  another  way  would  present 
itself  by  which  he  could  profit  by  the  rich  American's  great 
fortune,  it  was  only  a  question,  it  seemed  to  him,  of  staying 
with  Ward  and  drifting  on  with  the  tide  of  friendship  until 
time  would  give  him  his  other  chance. 

He  thought  of  interesting  the  American  in  the  Red  Cross 
movement,  but  finally  considered  that  this  would  bring  them 
into  a  new  circle  of  acquaintance  which  might  foil  his  plans. 
Whatever  he  did  do  with  the  old  man  he  knew  must  be  ac- 
complished from  the  angle  of  American  patriotism. 
O'Rourke  would  be  of  great  assistance  to  him  had  he  dared 
take  him  into  his  confidence,  and  he  deplored  the  fact  that 
the  American  author  and  soldier  was  of  such  honorable 
grain  as  to  not  even  permit  the  shadow  of  a  suggestion  that 
he  might  be  eventually  won  over  as  a  co-conspirator. 

Both  Coste  and  O'Rourke  were  rapidly  convalescing  un- 
der the  careful  nursing  and  scientific  treatment  of  the  Abaz- 
zia  infirmary.  Magnus  had  plenty  of  time  to  perfect  his 
plans,  but  the  evil  inspiration  of  the  conspiracy  day  after 
day  kept  itself  hidden  from  him.  The  fiction  part  of  his 
brain  seemed  to  have  entirely  stopped  like  a  run-down  clock 
and  he  felt  his  whole  mind  dull  and  laggard. 

"Perhaps,"  thought  he,  "a  little  change  of  environment 
for  a  short  while  won't  do  me  any  harm." 


GOING  TO  WAR  103 

So  leaving  them  all  at  Abazzia,  he  took  the  express  for 
Vienna,  the  noise  of  the  train  as  it  rattled  to  him'  in  the 
stuffy  sleeping  compartment  echoing  into  his  ear  as  from 
the  receiver  of  a  telephone:  "The  American.  The  rich 
American.  How  can  I  profit  by  his  fortune?" 

And  in  his  dreams,  he  dreamt  still  of  Albania  and  when 
in  the  vision  of  his  sleep  he  saw  the  crown  placed  upon  the 
curling  locks  and  high  white  brow  of  Haiden,  a  smile  set 
itself  upon  his  features,  a  sweet  smile — so  tender  that  in 
a  moment  it  vanished,  as  though  like  a  bird  of  happiness 
it  had  suddenly  found  itself  where  it  did  not  belong  and  so 
had  quickly  flown  away. 


II 
GOING  TO  WAR 

Even  Magnus,  with  his  scheming,  cunning  mind,  over- 
looked the  fact  that  Haiden,  unaware  of  Magnus'  con- 
spiracy, might  still  spoil  it  by  acting  independently  of  him 
during  his  absence  in  Vienna, — an  absence  which  he  did  not 
think  would  last  more  than  a  couple  of  days.  He  did  not 
take  into  account  the  deep  rooted  passion  of  love  which 
had  electrified  and  thrilled  the  whole  dreamy  and  emotional 
character  of  the  Prince,  nor  its  possible  consequences  to 
Athena,  for  Haiden  was  a  man  whom  almost  any  woman 
would  love  under  the  conditions  of  such  intimate  associa- 
tion, entirely  independent  of  the  glamour  of  his  family 
lineage  and  high  individual  place  in  the  almanac  of  Gotha. 

For  the  first  day  or  two  after  their  arrival  at  Abazzia 
Haiden  sent  a  stream  of  telegrams  to  Berlin  in  order  to  find 
out  when  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  take  his  command. 
The  answer  came  back  commanding  him  to  wait  where  he 
was.  This  he  took  to  mean  that  he  would  be  assigned  to  some 
Austrian  regiment  on  the  eastern  front. 

There  is  nothing  that  brings  out  the  emotion  in  a  woman's 
heart  or  joins  the  issue  of  love  more  quickly  than  going  to 


104  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

war.  And  now  that  Athena  found  that  Haiden  alone,  of  all 
the  party,  was  to  go  out  into  a  conflict  which  offered  so 
much  of  danger  to  life,  limb  and  health,  she  felt  a  new 
strange  feeling  toward  him. 

"Why  should  he  go?"  she  reflected.  "He,  the  dreamer, 
the  happy  poet,  whose  whole  being  rebels  against  the  slight- 
est act  of  war's  savagery.  He  who  seems  to  belong  to  some 
Arcadian  bower — a  bower  of  laurel  and  roses — giving  quiet 
joy  to  all  who  find  him  out." 

Even  her  father  condoled  the  fact  that  Haiden  had  to  go, 
although  a  gleam  came  into  the  old  man's  eyes  when 
the  former  said  to  him  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone : 

"Why,  going  to  war  is  just  like  going  to  the  polls  to  vote, 
except,  instead  of  merely  marking  a  ballot,  one  votes  with 
all  his  strength,  mental  and  physical,  and  with  armed  ac- 
cessories, in  sustaining  what  the  majority  of  his  nation  have 
declared  to  be  right." 

"Have  you  any  idea,"  asked  Athena,  "how  long  it  will 
be  before  you  receive  your  orders?" 

"No,"  responded  the  Prince.  "It  may  be  a  few  moments 
and  it  may  not  be  for  days,  but  I  feel  quite  confident  that 
I  will  be  assigned  to  an  Austrian  regiment,  because  other- 
wise they  would  have  let  me  go  right  on  to  Berlin.  You 
see,  I  speak  Russian  and  have  taken  part  in  the  field 
maneuvers  on  the  Russian  frontier,  and  since  the  war  office 
knows  about  everyone  of  its  officers  as  much  as  the  officers 
do  themselves,  it  may  be  that  on  that  account  they  find  they 
can  use  me  better  on  the  east  front  than  on  the  west." 

Athena's  heart  sank  within  her  and  tears  came  to  her 
eyes  so  that,  to  conceal  her  emotion,  she  hurriedly  arose  and 
left  the  portico  where  they  were  all  seated,  and  with  a  word 
of  excuse,  walked  down  the  garden  pathway. 

Ward  and  O'Rourke  (it  was  O'Rourke's  first  leave  from 
the  hospital)  were  engaged  in  a  discussion  as  to  the  effect 
the  European  war  would  have  on  business  in  America  and 
did  not  notice  that  Haiden  had  left  them  to  follow  up  the 
path  after  Athena. 

Haiden  saw  her  wiping  her  eyes  as  she  stood  by  an  out- 


GOING  TO  WAR  105 

look  in  the  garden  wall,  gazing  down  over  the  tree-em- 
bowered house  tops  which  terraced  down  to  the  gleaming 
blue  sea  beyond. 

Her  cheeks  flushed  as  he  approached,  and  a  light  move- 
ment of  her  body  gave  him  the  suggestion  that  she  was  go- 
ing to  flee.  .  .  .  But  his  voice  reassured  her  as  he,  with- 
out glancing  at  her,  said: 

"How  blue  the  sea  is!  Oh!  This  Adriatic!  How  won- 
derful it  is!" 

He  put  a  foot  on  the  ledge  of  the  wall,  and  resting  one  arm 
on  his  knee,  looked  over  towards  the  purple-tinted  moun- 
tains beyond  the  edge  of  the  water. 

"You  see,  we  Germans  love  the  Southland,  but  our  na- 
tion was  born  too  late  to  get  even  just  a  little  corner  of 
the  great  beautiful  Southern  seas.  "We  are  choked  into  the 
very  center  of  Europe  and  hedged  around  by  England's 
bristling  men-of-war,  who  declare  that  we  shall  go  no  farther ; 
that  we  must  live  and  die  in  the  narrow  confines  of  the  land 
that  our  fathers  knew,  while  all  the  time  our  increasing 
population  is  filling  up  into  the  uttermost  limits  of  our 
united  Germany,  and  spreading  out  over  the  whole  world, 
since  there  is  not  enough  room  for  it  in  our  own  beloved 
land." 

She  was  silent.     She  dared  say  nothing. 

"No,  Germany  is  the  land  of  peace — but  the  land  of  peace 
had  to  prepare  itself  for  war.  We  just  wanted  a  chance 
to  go  out  into  the  world,  as  men  well  equipped  for  the 
labor — not  as  mere  Germans,  but  as  men — ,  men  who  would 
treat  Jew,  Gentile,  Pagan  and  Christian  all  with  the  same 
fairness.  But  England  has  for  years  declared  that  she,  as 
the  mistress  of  the  sea,  will  not  let  us  go  to  the  furthermost 
parts  of  the  world  that  our  continually  increasing  population 
may  find  bread  to  eat.  But  we  shall  see.  Yes,  we  shall  see." 

He  sighed  as  he  stood  upright  and  folded  his  arms,  his 
cap  resting  lightly  on  the  back  of  his  head,  blown  about  with 
a  circlet  of  curls  that  the  breeze  lifted  lightly  from  his  high 
forehead,  over  a  face  almost  feminine  in  its  sweetness.  But 
nothing  in  his  tenderness  belied  the  strength  of  his  agile  and 
muscular  body. 


106  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"But  I  should  not  talk  to  you  this  way,"  he  exclaimed, 
turning  toward  her.  "You  are  of  a  neutral  nation  although 
of  a  nation  which  is  more  German  than  it  is  English  in  spirit, 
even  though  your  language  and  a  small  part  of  your  laws 
are  related  to  England.  I  should  not  talk  this  way  to  you. 
It  is  not  right  that  I  should  inflict  upon  you  my  own  po- 
litical ideas." 

"But  why  should  there  be  war?"  she  questioned. 

"Because  men  have  hearts  to  feel  and  brains  to  think," 
he  returned.  "When  men  shall  cease  to  love  home  and  dis- 
regard the  welfare  of  their  women  and  children,  then  they 
will  cease  to  have  recourse  to  the  great  tribunal  of  war  to 
decide  the  question  of  their  right." 

A  shocked  expression  came  to  her  face. 

"I — ,  I — ,  thought  that  you  were  so  different — so  differ- 
ent," she  murmured. 

' '  I  suppose  it  does  appear  brutal  for  me  to  talk  this  way. ' ' 

"Not  brutal,"  she  corrected.  "But,  oh,  I  don't  know, 
your  mind  seems  to  be  so  beautiful,  so  tender,  that  I  cannot 
conceive  that  you  want  to  shed  blood." 

He  thought  for  a  moment  and  then  said: 

"Shed  blood?  There  is  nothing  more  abhorrent  to  me 
than  to  shed  blood.  So  I  am  glad  that  my  war  service  is 
come  at  a  time  when  the  actual  knowledge  of  taking  a  human 
life  is  generally  quite  impossible." 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"Yes,"  he  continued.  "Within  the  next  few  weeks  there 
will  probably  be  thousands  and  thousands  of  French,  Eng- 
lish and  Russians  who  will  have  been  killed  or  wounded  by 
our  German  soldiers;  and  then  there  will  be  likewise  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  our  Austrian  and  German  soldiers 
who  will  be  killed  and  wounded  by  the  English,  French  and 
Russians,  and  yet  all  of  them  will  never  have  seen  the  enemy 
in  action. 

"How  is  that  so?" 

"Simply  because  going  to  war  nowadays  is  like  going  into 
a  great  machine  shop  filled  with  dangerous  machines,  or  ap- 
proaching a  great  fly  wheel,  going  so  fast  that  it  is  liable 


GOING  TO  WAR  107 

at  any  moment  to  fly  to  pieces.  Modern  artillery  points  its 
guns  high  up,  fires  over  the  treetops,  and  miles  away,  after 
the  shell  has  passed  over  the  entrenched  men  of  a  whole 
army,  it  will  kill  and  maim  hundreds  of  the  enemy." 

Athena  shuddered. 

"How  can  such  an  awful  thing  have  any  nation's 
sanction  ? ' ' 

"It  does  seem  outrageous,"  he  returned,  "this  machine 
killing  of  men  on  such  a  tremendous  scale." 

He  reflected  a  moment  and  then  continued: 

"Really,  the  only  civilized  thing  about  so-called  civilized 
warfare  is  the  attempt  made  to  protect  women  and  children. 
That's  the  reason  why  war  is  so  quickly  forgotten;  for  a 
country  is  soon  repeopled." 

"Yes,"  responded  Athena  sadly.  "Yes,  the  women  are 
spared,  but  oh!  how  dreadful  the  taking  away  of  the  men 
and  always  the  very  flower  of  the  country!" 

"But  men  are  willing  to  go.  Yes,  even  glad  to  give  up 
their  lives." 

She  remained  for  a  long  time  silent  and  then  asked 
abruptly,  her  face  coming  a  little  nearer  towards  him  in  its 
appeal. 

' '  Must  you  go  ?    Really,  must  you  go  ? " 

Her  eyes  looked  full  into  his  and  his  breath  came  quicker 
as  her  glance  filled  with  meaning;  the  tone  of  her  voice  so 
sympathetic  that  he  almost  felt  like  kneeling  to  kiss  her  hand 
and  declare  his  love,  for  she  seemed  too  wonderful — too  sub- 
lime in  her  womanhood — to  be  aught  less  than  an  object 
of  idolatrous  adoration. 

Then  suddenly  he  heard  the  voice  of  Ward  and  O'Rourke 
talking  earnestly  together,  coming  toward  them  up  the  path- 
way. In  the  sublimity  of  the  final  moment,  he  forgot  to 
answer  her,  his  heart  joyous  and  filled  only  with  the  thought: 

"Perhaps  if  I  am  saved  from  the  war  there  may  yet  be 
hope  to  win  her." 


108  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 


III 
TO  WIN  HONORS 

From  that  hour  on,  Haiden's  restlessness  became  almost 
a  frenzy — ,  a  frenzy  to  be  gone.  He  wanted  to  be  away; 
to  go  to  war;  to  fight  bravely;  to  win  honors — ,  and  then 
to  return  that  he  might  seek  out  the  woman  he  loved. 

His  temperament  was  too  delicate  to  admit  of  his  pre- 
suming further  on  the  slight  suggestion  of  interest  that 
Athena  had  shown  him.  He  was  all  of  a  soldier  now  and 
the  lover  part  of  him  had  to  be  subdued.  Late  that  night  he 
walked  up  and  down  the  flowered  walk  overlooking  the  sea, 
saying  within  himself: 

"Yes,  I  am  ready.  God  grant  that  the  war  may  be  short, 
and  that  my  share  of  the  battle  shall  be  large,  that  I  may 
return  to  her  honored  with  triumphs,  that  I  may  be  worthy 
to  offer  her  my  hand." 

He  reflected  on  Magnus — Magnus,  merely  a  well  ac- 
credited stranger — who  had  sought  him  out  in  rather  a 
strange  but  conventional  way,  inviting  him  to  go  on  the 
cruise.  He  could  hardly  give  himself  an  account  of  what 
Magnus  really  was  and  what  he  represented.  He  had,  from 
the  first  moment,  been  too  infatuated  with  Athena  to  even 
think  of  any  one  else. 

He  tried  to  explain  to  himself  Coste's  reason  for  joining 
the  Epirotes  and  marveled  at  the  initiative  and  bravery  of 
O'Rourke  on  that  adventurous  day.  He  had  had  no  chance 
to  talk  to  either  Coste  or  O'Rourke  since  that  bloody  affair 
in  the  mountains,  except  for  a  few  words  of  sympathetic 
greeting  when  he  had  called  from  time  to  time  to  see  them 
at  the  hospital. 

He  felt  that  the  adventure  had  put  him  at  a  great  dis- 
advantage, in  Athena's  opinion,  for  she  would  have  never 
known  the  resolve  which  had  permanently  been  fixed  in 
his  heart,  naturally  and  instinctively;  to  protect  her  and 


TO  WIN  HONORS  109 

the  other  women  of  the  party  from  all  possible  harm  in 
those  fearful  moments  of  the  Mussulmans'  mistaken  attack. 

Comparing  himself  with  O'Rourke,  he  confessed  his  com- 
parative lack  of  initiative  and  marvelled  at  the  super-man, 
whose  mind  immediately  evolved  such  a  wonderful  solution 
of  the  predicament.  Yes,  he,  himself,  was  after  all  only  a 
machine  soldier,  in  whose  education  the  resourcefulness  of 
O'Rourke  was  lacking.  The  more  he  reflected  on  O'Rourke, 
the  more  wonderful  he  found  him. 

With  reflections  such  as  these,  he  remembered  that  he 
had  no  time  to  lose  in  taking  his  farewell  of  the  two  men. 
At  the  first  opportunity  in  the  morning  he  called  at  the 
hospital. 

O'Rourke,  whose  convalescence  had  proceeded  almost  to 
the  point  of  entire  recovery,  received  him  cordially,  and 
the  two  men  talked  on  general  subjects  together,  O'Rourke 's 
strength  freely  permitting  him  to  take  a  walk  on  the  balcony 
with  Haiden. 

Then  they  both  returned  to  visit  Coste,  while  his  wounds 
were  being  dressed. 

Coste 's  nerves  were  shattered;  he  was  all  ashen,  all  un- 
strung. At  the  first  information  that  Magnus  had  gone  to 
Vienna  a  sigh  of  relief  escaped  him  and  then,  with  a  curse, 
before  he  knew  it,  he  had  blurted  out,  to  the  surprise  of 
0  'Rourke  and  Haiden : 

"I  am  glad  the  crook  is  gone.  T  hate  the  very  air  he 
breathes. ' ' 

"What!"  exclaimed  Haiden. 

The  single  interjected  word  came  to  Coste 's  disordered 
nerves  like  a  short  burning  fuse  set  to  a  bomb. 

"Yes.  That  man  has  made  my  life  a  misery.  He  hasn't 
the  soul  of  a  crocodile.  He  is  merciless  in  his  trickery. 
He  has  deceived  me,  and  he  has  deceived  you,"  he  cried, 
pointing  his  finger  impetuously  toward  Haiden.  "And  he 
will  even  deceive  our  American  friend  here  if  the  chance 
allows. ' ' 

Both  looked  at  him  aghast. 

"Ah,"  continued  Coste.     "Is  it  not  enough  that  I  tell 


110  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

you  that  the  man  is  a  villian ;  that  he  possessed  himself  of 
my  very  soul  and  now  has  foully  betrayed  me?  And  you," 
he  cried,  pointing  toward  Haiden.  "You,  a  German  Prince, 
are  worse  in  his  grip  than  I,  for  no  sooner  will  you  find 
yourself  in  any  power  to  which  he  exalts  you  than  you  will 
feel  the  heartless  thrust  of  his  torture." 

Haiden  gave  him  an  inquiring  look,  and  then  asked 
calmly : 

"Well,  what  have  I  to  do  with  all  this?" 

"Answer  me  first,  who  is  Magnus?"  answered  Coste,  im- 
petuously raising  himself  from  the  couch  until  he  winced 
with  the  pain  which  the  new  position  brought  to  his  wounds. 
"Tell  me,"  he  cried  in  a  tone  fiercer  because  of  the  pain. 
"Tell  me,  who  is  this  stranger?  This  mysterious  comer  and 
goer,  whose  shadow  brings  death  to  all  joy  and  which  has 
left  its  blight  upon  my  life  forever?  Who  is  he,  I  repeat? 
Why  should  everyone  whisper  when  they  speak  his  name? 
And  even  then  only  speak  of  him  by  the  pseudonym  of 
Magnus  ? ' ' 

"You  startle  me,"  responded  the  Prince.  "I  accepted 
his  invitation  because  it  came  from  your  family  of  whom 
we  all  know.  As  for  Magnus,  I  know  that  he  is  a  member  of 
a  great  Austrian  family  and  has  held  high  official  positions. 
The  invitation  to  join  your  party  came  to  me  direct  in  my 
own  Chateau.  I  accepted  it  as  from  the  Duchess,  not  from 
him." 

Coste  looked  at  him  appealingly. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  more,"  he  said.  "We  have  been  and 
still  are  friends.  Will  you  let  me  advise  you?" 

His  tone  was  so  vehement  and  so  pathetic  as  to  bring 
the  conviction  of  friendship  to  Haiden.  Coste  saw  the 
sympathy  in  Haiden 's  face  and  then  again  entreated. 

"Not  only  in  the  light  of  a  friend,  but,  if  you  will  so 
take  it,  as  the  representative  of  our  good  American  host, 
will  you  not  let  me  advise  you  to  get  rid  of  this  fellow 
forever  if  you  treasure  your  own  happiness?" 

Haiden  looked  at  O'Rourke  inquiringly. 

O'Rourke   had   never   liked   Magnus — ,    for   he,    with   his 


TO   WIN   HONORS  111 

candid  nature,  never  liked  any  one  who  was  mysterious  on 
close  acquaintance. 

"Of  course,"  said  O'Rourke  dryly,  "he  is  not  here  to 
defend  himself." 

"Yes,  that  is  just  it,"  broke  in  Coste.  "That  is  why 
I  have  the  courage  to  tell  you,  for  Magnus  has  broken  my 
honor,  and  a  broken  man  can  never  defend  himself.  But 
you,  sir,"  he  continued,  turning  his  white  face  and  deep 
shining  eyes  up  toward  O'Rourke,  "upon  my  word  as  a 
man  who  was  once  noble  in  spirit  as  well  as  in  name;  you, 
who  proved  your  braveness,  and  who  know  that  I,  myself, 
am  not  a  coward,  be  advised  by  me  also,  for  the  protection 
of  your  American  friends,  and  do  not  let  this  monster  make 
you  his  tool  as  he  has  me." 

"But  can  you  not  explain  further?"  asked  O'Rourke. 
"Can  you  believe  that  we  would  condemn  a  man  upon  mere 
insinuation  ? ' ' 

Coste  deliberated.  Then  tears  of  distress  suddenly  filled 
his  eyes. 

"Oh!  I  cannot  ....  I  cannot,"  he  cried.  "It  is  too 
horrible  even  to  think  of,  let  alone  to  repeat." 

Both  Haideii  and  O'Rourke  were  deeply  moved  by  his 
tone  and  manner.  The  three  were  silent  as,  at  a  sign  from 
Coste,  a  nurse  approached  and  then  left  upon  some  errand 
for  him.  When  she  was  gone  there  was  a  long  silence, 
finally  broken  by  Coste,  who  said  in  a  low,  contrite  tone: 

"You  are  right.    You  cannot  condemn  him  without  facts." 

He  moved  lightly  on  his  couch  and  then  burst  out: 

"Magnus  made  me  a  part  of  his  conspiracy  to  marry  the 
Prince  to  Miss  Ward  in  order  that,  with  her  fortune,  he 
might  buy  the  throne  of  Albania." 

O'Rourke  looked  at  the  Prince,  who  stood  for  a  moment 
transfixed,  and  then  slowly  clenched  his  fists  as  if  to  dis- 
pute the  statement  ....  as  if  he  would  strike  a  blow." 

"It  is  a  lie !  It  is  a  lie !"  cried  the  Prince.  ' ' I  would 
never  stoop  to  such  an  intrigue  against  that  noble  lady." 

"And  then,"  added  O'Rourke,  "it  seems  that  Colonel 
Ward  is  able  to  take  care  of  his  daughter  in  such  affairs." 


112  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Oh,  there  it  is!"  exclaimed  Coste,  wearily  moving  his 
head  from  side  to  side.  "I  knew  that  you  would  not 
believe  me.  No.  You  will  never  believe  what  an  imposter 
this  man  is  until  you,  yourselves,  and  your  American 
friends  are  both  as  miserable  as  I.  But  see,  here  is  proof, 
and  if  you  do  not  believe  it,  you  have  only  to  telephone  to 
Venice  to  verify  the  correctness  of  this  letter,"  and 
fumbling  with  his  one  well  hand  at  the  orderly  satchel 
under  his  pillow,  he  produced  the  letter  in  Italian,  which 
Haiden  took  and  read: 
"My  dear  Count — 

"In  answer  to  thy  inquiry  concerning  the  debts  which 
Magnus  was  supposed  to  have  paid,  I  regret  to  inform 
thee  that  they  are  still  outstanding  and  have,  by  endorse- 
ment, been  put  into  the  hands  of  usurers.  I  have  seen 
several  of  our  discreet  friends  to  ascertain  if  it  were  not 
possible  to  withdraw  these  notes  since  those  to  whom  thou 
first  gavest  them,  having  endorsed  them,  will  be  liable  for 
the  interest,  to  the  great  increase  of  the  debts  in  case 
the  notes  are  not  immediately  withdrawn.  But  I  have  had 
no  success.  It  was  certainly  a  scurvy  trick  of  Magnus,  but 
his  promise  being  merely  oral,  of  course  he  will  deny  it 
if  the  services  thou  wast  to  have  rendered  have  already 
been  given.  I  have  always  suspected  Magnus,  not  alone 
because  I  do  not  have  any  particular  love  for  Austrians, 
but  because  he  is  one  of  the  very  leaders  of  that  hateful 
type  who  has  taken  what  we  will  one  day  get  back — 1 'Italia 
Irredenta. 

"Get  well  quickly,  Caro  Mio,  that  thy  friend  may  try  to 
help  thee  solve  thy  trouble  and  free  thyself  from  this  snare. 

"Thine  affectionately, 

"Salvatore  di  Loma." 

"Now,"  cried  Coste,  the  words  running  up  to  a  climax, 
"if  you  question  any  further  the  infamy  of  this  Magnus' 
type,  let  me  tell  you  that  I,  being  distressed  by  my  gam- 
bling debts,  sold  my  very  soul  to  Magnus  to  relieve  myself 
of  dishonor,  only  to  find  that  when  he  had  me  in  his  power 
he  obligated  me  to  become  a  conspirator  against  my  own 
host." 


WEEDING  THE  FLOWER  113 

Both  O'Rourke  and  Haiden  reflected.  It  was  clear  to 
both  that  Coste  was  telling  the  truth.  As  men  of  the  world, 
they  knew  that  his  story  bore  the  earmarks  of  fact;  even 
in  its  details  it  was  to  them  convincing. 

"The  scoundrel!"  muttered  the  Prince.  "I  must  find 
some  means  to  see  that  he  goes  no  farther  with  his  con- 
spiracies. ' ' 

"But  how?"  asked  Coste. 

Haiden  folded  his  arms  and  strode  over  to  the  window 
overlooking  the  sea.  Then  he  came  back  to  O'Rourke  and 
Coste,  saying  impetuously : 

"I  have  it.  He  can  be  easily  disposed  of.  I  am  sure 
that  my  influence  is  more  than  his.  I  will  take  care  that 
he  does  not  rejoin  our  American  friends." 

But  the  Prince  did  not  realize  how  quickly  counter  in- 
fluences may  move  in  times  of  war. 


IV 
WEEDING  THE  FLOWER 

After  leaving  Coste,  O'Rourke  and  the  Prince  strolled 
together  down  the  cement  pathway,  O'Rourke,  American 
fashion,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  relaxing  himself 
in  a  loose,  shuffling,  easy  walk;  Haiden,  tall  and  erect, 
stepping  out  from  his  hips  in  that  elegant  but  stiff,  heavy 
muscular  step  which  only  naturally  comes  from  long  prac- 
tice of  the  Parade  Marsch. 

"How  contemptible  of  that  fellow  Magnus,"  said  the 
Prince.  "I  had  already  suspected  that  he  was  trying  to 
make  me  a  cat's-paw.  In  fact,  as  I  now  look  back,  I  can 
remember  many  strange  things  he  said  which  verify  my 
opinions  that  Coste  is  absolutely  truthful." 

"It  is  a  pity,"  remarked  O'Rourke,  "that  any  advantage 
should  be  taken  of  such  splendid  American  generosity  as 
Mr.  Ward  offered  him ;  but  what  is  to  be  done  about  it  ? " 

"Magnus  must   be   gotten   rid  of,"   returned   the  Prince. 


114  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"That  is  the  only  way  to  dispose  of  anything  disagreeable; 
just  simply  get  away  from  it  by  getting  rid  of  it.  I  believe 
it  would  be  my  duty  to  prevent  his  ever  returning  to  harass 
our  American  friends  again." 

The  Prince  offered  O'Rourke  a  cigarette.  O'Rourke 
waved  it  aside  with  a  "Thank  you,"  digging  into  his  pocket 
for  a  black  cigar  at  which  he  chewed  without  lighting  it. 
Haiden  gave  a  quick  kick  with  his  toe  at  a  weed  growing  in 
the  gravel,  crushing  it  against  the  coping  of  the  walk. 

"That  ugly  weed  in  a  few  days  would  have  choked  out 
all  the  chance  this  little  bud  has  to  bloom,"  he  remarked 
as  he  stooped  over  and  weeded  the  grass  from  around  the 
struggling  plant.  "Yes,"  he  continued  reflectively  as  he 
rose  up.  "Magnus  is  the  weed  and  I  am  sure  that  his  in- 
fluence will  be  bad  upon  the  flower,  Miss  Ward,  if  he  is 
ever  allowed  to  rejoin  her  and  her  father.  He  must  by  all 
means  be  made  to  leave  them  alone  hereafter." 

"But  how  will  you  prevent  him  from  harassing  them?" 
asked  O'Rourke  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

"Oh,  you  see,  the  treaty  of  Germany  with  Austria  brings 
Vienna  pretty  close  to  Berlin.  I  will  merely  recommend 
that  Magnus  be  assigned  to  some  affair  in  Berlin.  That 
will  end  the  matter,  for  before  he  is  released  from  his 
duty,  which  I  shall  take  care  will  not  be  very  soon,  the 
Wards  will  be  gone." 

"But  the  cruise  is  already  ended,"  remarked  O'Rourke. 
"And  the  party  consequently  disbanded.  Therefore  such 
a  step  as  you  propose  will  not  be  necessary,  will  it?" 

"Ah,  I  must  talk  to  Coste  about  that,"  returned  the 
Prince.  "I  will  see  him  this  afternoon  when  he  has  had 
his  rest." 

Late  that  afternoon  both  men  again  were  walking  up  the 
path  to  the  hospital.  The  nurse  came  forward  as  they 
approached,  and  remarked: 

"Oh,  I  am  sorry  that  you  came  so  late,"  and  then  she 
was  silent  as  the  Duchess  and  Cornelia  came  towards  them, 
their  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Oh  ! "  exclaimed  the  Duchess.  ' '  Why  was  nothing  told 
us  of  his  transfer.  Why  have  they  taken  him  away?" 


WEEDING  THE  FLOWER  115 

"What!     Is  the  Count  gone?"  asked  O'Rourke. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  Duchess,  commencing  to  weep. 
"Yes.  It  is  all  so  strange.  I  cannot  understand.  They 
have  borne  him  away,  sick  and  wounded  as  he  is,  without 
telling  me,  his  mother,  anything  about  it." 

The  nurse  drew  the  women  backward  gently  to  quiet 
them,  and  O'Rourke 's  inquiring  gaze  happened  to  light 
upon  the  Prince,  who,  under,  his  breath,  muttered: 

"Don't  you  understand?     This  is  Magnus'  work." 

"But  how?"  asked  O'Rourke. 

"Who  can  tell?"  asked  the  Prince.  "Who  can  say 
whether  Coste  is  detained  as  a  spy  or  otherwise  as  a  mili- 
tary prisoner?" 

The  lamentation  of  the  women  came  to  their  ears. 

O'Rourke  said: 

"One  thing  is  certain;  he  is  gone.  Taken  away  most 
mysteriously,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  his  mother  and  sister 
to  find  him." 

"But  how?"  asked  the   Prince. 

"I  do  not  know  now,  but  time  will  show  the  way.  What 
do  you  imagine  would  be  the  reason  for  Magnus'  conduct 
towards  that  wounded  man?" 

"The  simplest  in  the  world,"  responded  Haiden.  "He 
did  not  want  the  Count  to  know  that  his  gambling  debts 
were  not  paid.  He  is  trying  to  cover  up  one  misdemeanor 
with  another." 

The  Duchess  came  hastening  down  the  stairway  towards 
them,  crying: 

"Oh,  this  horrid  Austria.  I  knew  that  some  harm  would 
come  to  us  if  we  remained  here." 

"But  we  shall  find  him  for  you,"  reassured  O'Rourke. 

At  that  moment  an  Austrian  orderly  came  clanking  up 
the  pathway,  the  rowels  of  his  spurs  still  frothy  with  the 
sweat  of  his  horse.  Striding  up  to  the  Prince  he  saluted 
and  delivered  a  message. 

The  Prince  opened  it  and  read.  A  look  of  joy  overspread 
his  features  as  he  cried: 

"It  has  come!  It  has  come!  I  must  go  at  once.  My 
battalion  meets  me  on  the  east  front." 

8 


116  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

The  Duchess  looked  at  him  terrified. 

"What!  You  must  leave?  You,  too,  must  go?"  she 
queried  tremulously. 

"Yes,"  responded  Haiden.  "Back  at  once  with  this  same 
orderly.  But  we  shall  find  the  Count  for  you,  for  Mr. 
O'Rourke  will  keep  me  posted  and  although  separated  we 
shall  still  act  together." 

"Oh,  this  war!  This  dreadful  war!"  exclaimed  the 
Duchess. 

"Alas  that  I  must  say  farewell,"  exclaimed  the  Prince, 
advancing  courteously  and  bowing  deeply  to  the  ladies. 
"It  pains  me  to  make  it  thus  abrupt,  but  I  have  but  little 
time  to  get  ready  for  the  Vienna  express.  I  must  hurry." 

"I  know,"  returned,  the  Duchess.  "We  can  not  keep  you, 
and  then  besides,  Mr.  O'Rourke  and  Mr.  Ward  are  still 
left  to  advise  us  and  perhaps  my  son  after  all  has  merely 
absented  himself  of  his  own  will." 

The  Duchess  and  Cornelia  stretched  out  their  hands  to 
the  Prince,  who,  after  the  final  salutation,  said  to  0  'Rourke : 

"Will  you  not  come  with  me  that  we  may  discuss  the 
matter?  And  then  you  can  return  and  perhaps  immedi- 
ately bring  good  news  to  the  Duchess, ' '  he  added  reassuringly. 

O'Rourke  lifted  his  hat  and  walked  away  with  Haiden, 
remaining  with  him  until  the  train's  departure.  Haiden, 
they  agreed,  was  to  report  to  Berlin  the  disappearance  of 
Count  Coste  with  a  recommendation  for  his  immediate 
release  if  held  as  a  military  prisoner,  and  O'Rourke 's  heart 
was  somewhat  lighter  as  he  turned  down  through  the  throng 
to  go  back  to  comfort  the  Duchess,  and  to  inform  Mr. 
Ward  of  the  disappearance,  little  dreaming  that  at  that 
very  moment  the  women,  because  of  a  fake  telegram  re- 
ceived by  them  from  Venice,  were  both  precipitously 
hurrying  to  catch  the  ship  then  about  to  sail  for  home, 
without  having  time  even  to  wait  for  the  return  of  the 
Colonel  and  Athena,  who  had  gone  on  to  spend  the  day  at 
Divaca. 

O'Rourke  strode  up  the  broad  street  and  after  he  had 
gone  some  paces  into  the  path  which  led  to  the  villa, 


SOME  CRUMPLED  LETTERS  117 

heard  the  rattle  of  sabres  and  the  rush  of  feet  behind  him. 
Then  suddenly  two  heavy  hands  were  clasped  about  his 
shoulders,  and  he  turned  to  find  himself  in  the  solitude 
of  the  wooded  pathway,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  soldiers. 
"You  are  my  prisoner!"  exclaimed  an  officer.  "Go 
quietly  with  these  men  to  where  they  may  lead  you,  and 
remember  if  you  turn  to  the  right  or  left  you  will  be  shot 
dead  on  the  spot." 


V 
SOME    CRUMPLED   LETTERS 

"It  is  strange,"  remarked  Athena  to  Magnus  the  fol- 
lowing day  as  she  sat  with  her  father  and  Magnus  about 
the  dinner  table  after  reading  the  letters  thrown  out  over 
the  table.  "It  is  strange  and  I  do  not  yet  quite  under- 
stand it." 

"Yes,"  commented  Ward,  "but  if  we  had  caught  that 
fast  train  back  from  Divaca  we  would  have  probably  got 
here  in  time  to  see  them  before  they  left.  However,  these 
letters  explain  the  sudden  departure  very  sufficiently.  The 
Duchess  has  gone  with  her  son  and  daughter  back  to 
Venice;  O'Rourke  has  gone  to  the  front  as  a  war  corres- 
pondent and  Haiden  has  at  last  received  his  orders.  It 
is  all  perfectly  natural  in  this  topsy-turvy  war  time." 

Magnus  eyed  them  and  then  heaved  a  half  suppressed 
sigh  of  relief  as  he  saw  that  they  had  innocently  accepted 
the  letters  forged  by  him  as  genuine. 

"It  takes  my  mind  back,"  added  Ward  reflectively,  "to 
the  exciting  separations  of  the  Civil  War,  when  two  gener- 
ations of  a  family  were  broken  up  in  a  single  hour." 

"Yes,"  remarked  Magnus  laconically,  taking  a  deep  whiff 
at  his  phantom  cigarette.  "Yes,  I  hardly  thought  myself, 
for  a  time,  that  I  would  be  back  here  from  Vienna.  I  had 
a  rumor  of  a  certain  order  telling  me  to  go  to  Berlin,  and 
by  the  sheerest  good  luck,  I  actually  got  away  before  it 


118  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

was  really  served  on  me.  I  am  glad  because  I  have  a  great 
duty  to  perform,  a  great  mission,  and  going  to  Berlin  would 
have  prevented  its  fulfillment." 

"What  is  your  mission?"  asked  Ward. 

"I  have  a  philanthropic  plan  to  provide  the  war  ref- 
ugees— ,  who  are  already  actually  commencing  to  starve — , 
with  food.  I  mean  the  children  and  women  who  make  up 
the  most  illy  protected  victims  of  war." 

"Yes,"  commented  Ward.  "It  was  just  that  way  in  the 
Civil  War.  When  men  kill  and  fight  and  produce  nothing, 
women  and  children  and  the  sick  and  aged  all  have  to 
suffer." 

"I  am  glad  that  you  sympathize  with  my  plan,"  com- 
mended Magnus. 

"What  is  it  in  detail?"  asked  Ward. 

"Well,  it  is  simply  to  buy  up  as  much  foodstuff  as  fast 
as  I  can  before  the  extreme  advance  in  prices,  and  com- 
mence the  distribution  on  the  Russian-Austrian  front  as 
soon  as  possible.  It  is  really  as  great  a  work  as  that  of  the 
Red  Cross.  You  see,  this  sort  of  relief  work  saves  the 
coming  generations." 

"Yes,  it  is  a  grand  work,"  remarked  Athena  rather 
cheerily  although  still  inwardly  lamenting  the  sudden  de- 
parture of  their  other  guests.  "I  wish  that  I  could  do 
something  to  help  you." 

"Where  will  you  buy  your  foodstuffs?"  asked  Ward. 

"That  I  have  already  calculated  to  a  nicety,"  responded 
Magnus.  "You  would  think  that  they  would  be  brought 
from  the  Americas,  would  you  not?" 

"Yes,"  nodded  Ward  approvingly,  in  an  American's  ap- 
preciation of  a  reference  to  his  country.  "We  have  the 
best  wheat  in  the  world,  but  it  is  a  long  ways  off  from  here, 
and  I  suppose  that  insurance  risks  would  make  it  pretty 
expensive  in  bringing  it  over  from  there,  although  I  would 
indeed  like  to  have  my  country  feeding  the  poor  and  needy 
victims  of  this  war.  It  looks  as  if  it  is  going  to  be  a  tre- 
mendous contest" 

"Yes,    it    will    last    a    long    while,"    returned    Magnus. 


SOME  CRUMPLED  LETTERS  119 

"America  is  too  far  away  for  the  first  needs  and  the  relief 
must  be  immediate." 

"Then  where  will  you  get  your  foodstuffs?"  asked  Ward, 
now  thoroughly  interested. 

"Right  at  our  very  door,"  answered  Magnus.  "In  Asia 
Minor;  for  Turkey  has  not  entered  into  this  struggle  as  yet 
and  as  a  non-warring  country  at  the  present  time,  a  very 
considerable  amount  of  foodstuffs  can  be  obtained  from 
there." 

"Well!  Well!"  interjected  Ward.  "That  is,  indeed, 
quite  an  idea." 

"Yes,"  continued  Magnus.  "All  things  considered,  it 
can  be  bought  cheaper  there  than  in  America  and  besides, 
it  is  practically  ready  for  distribution,  for  it  can  be  taken 
up  the  Danube  and  distributed  where  needed.  Heaven  only 
knows  the  terrible  suffering  which  the  war  will  leave  in  it8 
wake  in  the  Balkans  as  well  as  along  the  whole  east  front." 

Ward  remained  silent  and  waited  complacently,  expecting 
Magnus  to  ask  him  for  a  subscription  to  the  fund. 

But  Magnus  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He  was  too  crafty 
not  to  realize  that  the  psychological  effect  of  his  suggestion 
would  do  of  itself  its  own  work.  So  casually  getting  up, 
he  remarked  nonchalantly: 

"Yes,  anybody  who  has  the  heart,  seems  to  be  interested 
in  my  plan  to  relieve  the  suffering  and  I  thank  you  also 
for  the  interest  you  are  showing  in  it.  And  now  I  must 
be  going  to  see  some  people  in  regard  to  perfecting  my 
plans,  for,  of  course,  it  will  take  money  to  finance  this 
mission  of  mercy." 

The  three  arose  and  strolled  over  to  the  doorway. 

"Do  not  feel  distressed  because  the  other  members  of 
our  party  have  left  us,"  admonished  Magnus,  "for  the  sepa- 
ration would  have  to  come  sooner  or  later  anyhow.  It's  al- 
ways that  way  in  war  times." 

"Yes,"  said  Athena,  slipping  her  hand  through  the  arm 
of  her  father,  her  eyes  taking  a  faraway  look.  She  sighed, 
again  acquiescing: 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so." 


120  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Ah,"  suddenly  remarked  Magnus.  "I  have  forgotten 
one  of  my  gloves.  No,  I  pray  you  remain  here.  I  will  go 
alone  to  get  it." 

In  a  moment  he  had  reached  the  table  where  were  the 
letters,  one  purporting  to  have  come  from  O'Rourke,  indi- 
cating that  he  was  going  on  to  Berlin,  one  from  the  Duchess, 
stating  that  she  was  returning  to  Venice,  and  likewise  one 
from  Count  Coste,  confirming  the  fact  that  he  was  going 
with  his  mother  and  sister  to  Venice.  Magnus  looked 
around  at  the  two  figures  in  the  doorway.  Their  backs 
were  turned  towards  him,  ...  so  he  quickly  and  boldly 
crumpled  the  papers  up  into  his  pocket,  reflecting  to  him- 
self: 

''Not  such  a  bad  job  for  an  amateur  forger  after  all, 
and  now  the  corpus  delicti  is  gone.  Let  the  servants  take 
the  blame.  Hereafter  there  will  only  be  three  in  the  party 
and  it  is  I  alone  who  will  direct,  but  I  must  get  them  away 
while  luck  is  still  with  me." 

And  a  wicked,  sinister  smile  curled  on  his  lips  as  he  took 
a  whiff  from  his  phantom  cigarette. 


VI 
THE  MISSION  OF  MERCY 


"I  tell  you,  Sally,  it  is  a  great  chance  to  do  good.  The 
Baron,"  for  so  Ward  always,  in  his  humorous,  good-natured 
American  tolerance  of  nobility  and  its  titles,  referred  to 
Magnus,  "seems  to  be  a  rather  philanthropic  sort  of  a  fel- 
low, and  since  I  can't  do  any  thing  now  for  the  Albanians 
I  might  as  well  start  some  relief  centers  for  the  refugees." 

"I  agree  with  you  perfectly,"  responded  Athena.  "Be- 
sides, we  have  the  yacht  and  we  will  cruise  around  to  Asia 
Minor  and  see  Constantinople  and  the  Golden  Horn,  and 
then  I  have  always  so  wanted  to  see  Broussa.  Since  the 
party  is  broken  up  it  seems  quite  the  reasonable  thing  to  do. ' ' 

The  old  man's  eyes  danced  with  delight. 

"Sally,  how  well  you  read  my  mind!" 

"And   then,"   continued   Athena  quite   enthused,    "going 


THE  MISSION  OF  MERCY  121 

to  Turkey  we  would  get  away  from  the  war,  which  has 
already  showed  its  dreadful  effect  by  taking  our  guests 
from  us  yesterday." 

"Yes,"  confirmed  Ward.  "Getting  away  from  the  war 
to  do  good  for  those  who  are  its  victims — ,  the  innocent, 
weak  victims  of  war — ,  just  as  I  saw  them  in  our  terrible 
civil  contest.  What  a  providential  chance  to  do  good ! ' ' 

"And  how  will  you  manage  it?"  asked  Athena. 

"Why,  I  suppose  that  we  will  let  the  Baron  manage  it 
for  us.  It  was  his  idea — his  plan,  you  see — and  I  don't 
see  how  I  could  put  it  through  without  his  assistance.  No. 
I  don't  suppose,"  he  added  reflectively,  "that  our  Minister 
in  Constantinople  or  any  of  our  consular  offices  could 
really  give  us  much  assistance." 

"Should  you  think  of  starting  before  we  heard  definitely 
from  the  Duchess  and  her  son  and  daughter,  and  from  Mr. 
O'Rourke  and  the  Prince?" 

She  pronounced  the  last  names  almost  guiltily,  rebellious 
in  her  heart  at  the  thought  that  O'Rourke  had  left  with 
nothing  but  a  note  of  formal  leave  taking  that  compared 
illy  with  the  gallant  epistle  of  the  Prince. 

"Why  not?"  asked  her  father.  "The  war  is  gripping 
everything  about  here  more  and  more  and  one  of  the  war 
ministries  might  commandeer  my  yacht.  By  the  way,"  he 
reflected,  "that  is  something  that  I  must  ask  the  Baron 
about — ,  as  to  whether  or  not  they  have  the  right  to  com- 
mandeer neutral  property  such  as  my  yacht.  We  never 
did  in  the  Civil  War,  but  that  was  because,"  he  added  with 
a  smile,  "we  never  had  much  of  a  chance.  The  Johnnies 
were  so  poor  that  the  neutrals  never  came  around." 

"We  are  fortunate  in  still  having  the  Baron  left,"  re- 
marked Athena. 

"Indeed  we  are,"  returned  her  father.  "That  is,  if  he 
really  is  still  left  us,  for  it  is  already  getting  on  towards 
lunch  time  and  if  he  doesn't  put  in  an  appearance  soon  I 
will  suspect  that  he,  too,  may  have  spirited  himself  away. 
Without  him  I  would  hardly  know  how  to  settle  up  for  the 
expense  of  this  villa,  for  it  is  he  who  made  the  contract  for 
its  rental." 

As  he  spoke,  the  gardener,  who  had  been  working  in  the 
flower  beds  near  the  arbor  where  they  were  seated,  ap- 
proached Athena,  offering  her  a  bouquet  of  flowers. 

"Strange,"   remarked  Athena  when   the   man  had   with- 


122  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

drawn  to  the  flower  beds  again,  "how  clean  and  white  that 
gardener  keeps  his  hands.  Poor  fellow,  he  has  been 
hovering  about  us  all  this  morning  just  to  get  a  chance  to 
give  me  those  flowers.  Haven't  you  a  bill  in  your  pocket 
for  him?" 

Ward  pulled  out  a  roll  and  passed  a  bank  note  to  his 
daughter.  Athena  called  to  the  gardener,  who  came 
up,  .  .  .  this  time  with  his  hands  concealed  beneath  his  cap. 

"Of  course  he  does  not  speak  English,"  said  Athena  as 
she  passed  him  the  note. 

The  man  made  a  deep  bow  and  again  retiring  to  the 
flower  beds  immediately  soiled  his  clean  hands  with  the 
dirt,  saying  to  himself: 

"That  was  a  close  call.  I  wonder  what  the  Baron  would 
say  if  he  knew  how  careless  and  absentminded  I  have  been 
about  my  hands." 

After  "Ward  and  his  daughter  had  left,  the  supposed 
gardener  hurriedly  and  surreptitiously  crept  up  into  the 
secret  room  where  Magnus  was  waiting,  and  forthwith  gave 
him  a  full  account  of  all  the  conversation  that  had  passed 
between  Athena  and  her  father  during  their  morning  stroll 
through  the  garden. 


VII 
THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  THREE 

Magnus  appeared  spick,  span  and  immaculate  and  took 
his  place  at  the  luncheon  table. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  tell  you,"  he  commenced,  "that  I 
am  afraid  that  I,  too,  will  have  to  abruptly  leave  you." 

"What!"  ejaculated  Ward,  dismayed  at  the  thought  that 
his  mission  would  not  carry,  while  Athena  also  looked  at 
him  in  consternation  at  the  thought  of  losing  the  last 
member  of  their  party. 

"Yes,  you  see,"  explained  Magnus.  "This  relief  crusade 
which  I  have  in  view  must  be  immediately  attended  to,  for 
I  feel  that  it  has  now  become  the  greatest  duty  of  my  life." 

"It  should  be  the  great  duty  of  everyone  who  can  attend 
to  it,"  commended  Ward. 

"Yes,"  continued  Magnus.  "But  you  see,  I  find  that  I 
have  difficulty  in  obtaining  the  necessary  ways  and  means; 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THREE  123 

that  is  to  say,  to  speak  almost  rudely  and  vulgarly,  I  find 
difficulty  in  getting  the  money  necessary  where  I  thought 
it  could  be  had  and  therefore,"  he  added  sadly,  "I  will 
now  have  to  seek  it  elsewhere." 

"But  my  father  will  assist  you,"  impetuously  broke  in 
Athena.  "We  have  both  talked  it  over  this  morning  and 
he  thoroughly  approves  of  your  plan." 

"Yes,"  confirmed  Ward.  "I  am  prepared  to  finance  you 
in  this  well  conceived  philanthropy." 

Magnus  reflected,  looking  vacantly  before  him  as  he  sank 
back,  slowly  drawing  his  napkin  lengthwise  over  his  knee. 

"Ah,"  he  finally  said.  "I  had  not  dared  to  think  of  that. 
It  would  really  be  asking  too  much,  would  it  not?"  and  he 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  an  apparently  disturbed, 
reluctant  way. 

"Not  at  all.  Not  at  all,"  answered  Ward,  while  Athena 
added : 

"There  is  nothing  that  my  father  more  dearly  loves  than 
to  do  good,  and  since  America  does  not  need  his  help  he 
must  find  an  outlet  for  his  philanthropy  in  Europe." 

"Let  me  think  it  over  a  while?"  drawled  Magnus.  "I  do 
not  yet  feel  justified  in  putting  upon  you  the  burden  of  this 
heavy  yet  glorious  undertaking." 

The  rest  of  the  meal  was  finished  almost  in  silence,  but 
late  that  afternoon  Magnus  sought  them  out  in  a  quiet  corner 
of  the  Casino  garden  where  Athena  and  her  father  sat  sipping 
sorbets  while  listening  to  the  concert. 

Magnus  seated  himself,  rapped  for  the  waiter,  and  ordered 
an  apertif.  Athena  noticed  that  he  was,  even  more  than 
usual  most  immaculately  dressed  with  a  fresh  white  waistcoat 
and  a  newly  laundered  panama  hat  whose  colored  ribbon  gave 
him  a  jaunty  look.  He  leaned  his  hands  with  their  well  mani- 
cured nails  over  the  golden  knob  of  his  walking  stick  and 
finally  declared  in  a  deliberate  tone: 

"I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  want  to  start  out  with 
you  on  your  mission  of  mercy — ,  just  as  soon  as  you  are  ready, 
and  the  sooner  the  better." 

Ward  stretched  out  his  hand  in  a  warm  clasp  to  Magnus 
and  exclaimed: 

"Good!  Then  let  us  leave  as  soon  as  I  can  settle  for  the 
villa.  My  daughter,  I  know,  must  feel  lonely  here,  now  that 
the  others  have  gone." 

He  turned  to  Athena  and  asked : 


124  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Is  it  not  also  your  desire,  daughter?" 

"Yes,"  quickly  responded  Athena. 

A  look  of  satisfaction  settled  over  the  face  of  Magnus,  for 
he  knew  that  at  length  he  had  them  entirely  in  his  power ;  but 
as  he  arose  and  started  back  towards  the  villa  he  merely  said : 

"Yes,  I  think  perhaps  we  had  better  start  in  the  morning, 
and  we  can  leave  word  here  to  have  any  messages  for- 
warded, if  they  come  from  the  others,  to  Constantinople, 
where  we  should  arrive  within  the  week." 


VIII 

THE   GOLDEN  HORN 

Athena  was  lonely — lonely,  although  she  would  not  con- 
fess it  to  herself,  but  there  was  in  her  heart  a  yearning, 
as  though  the  bottom  were  dropping  out  of  it  with  a  sicken- 
ing sensation  which,  when  she  ate,  seemed  to  turn  the  food 
in  her  mouth  to  ashes. 

She  felt  guilty  in  her  misery,  and  feared  lest  her  father 
in  some  way  might  penetrate  the  mystery  of  her  senti- 
mental being.  She  felt  at  times  as  if  she  wanted  to  avoid 
his  gaze — he,  her  own  father,  and  her  beau-ideal  of  what  a 
man  should  be. 

Her  sleep  became  disturbed,  and  hollow  rings  appeared 
beneath  her  beautiful  eyes.  She  tried  to  attribute  her  con- 
dition to  some  other  cause  than  that  of  sentiment.  But  no, 
she  was  absolutely  convinced  that  the  only  reason  for  her 
misery  was  that  she  was  lonely.  But  for  whom? 

"Ah!  How  foolish!  How  absurd!"  she  thought  to  her- 
self one  morning  after  they  had  arrived  in  Constantinople, 
as  still  in  bed  after  a  night  of  restlessness  she  looped  her 
beautiful  dark  hair  into  a  psyche  knot  upon  her  head,  and 
then  with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her  neck,  looked  up  to 
the  ceiling.  "Yes,  how  foolish,"  she  repeated,  and  this  time 
half  aloud.  "How  nonsensical  for  me  to  feel  lonely  when  I 
have  my  dear  good  father  with  me." 

Then  she  tried  to  analyze  her  feeling,  and  immediately 
put  in  practice  what  a  fashionable  mind  preacher  had  once 
taught  her,  saying  to  herself: 

"Yes,  some  little  cells  in  my  brain  are  not  acting  right. 
I  must  switch  the  mental  current  off  so  that  they  will  no 


THE  GOLDEN  HORN  126 

longer  feel  out  and  disturb  my  harmony  of  thought.  My 
mind  must  give  me  its  own  remedy,"  and  then  she  repeated 
over  and  over  again  to  herself: 

"I  am  not  lonely.  I  am  not  lonely.  My  father  is  with 
me.  I  am  happy  with  my  father.  I  am  happy  with  my 
father." 

But  in  spite  of  all  she  could  do,  she  saw  the  composite 
picture  of  a  man  come  up  before  her — a  man  who  had  the 
dark,  impetuous  eyes  of  Coste,  the  dreamy-faced,  soulful 
expression  of  Haiden,  and  the  rugged,  handsome,  courag- 
eous face  of  O'Rourke. 

And  then  suddenly  she  made  a  dreadful  discovery:  that 
she  was  not  lonely  for  mere  society  such  as  that  of  the 
Duchess  or  Cornelia — not  lonely  for  either  of  the  women 
members  of  the  party — but  lonely  for  the  man  part  of  it. 

Her  lovely  face  blanched  at  the  thought,  and  rebelliously 
she  struck  her  slim,  white,  shapely  fingers  down  into  the 
pillows  about  her. 

"How  horrid!  How  awful!"  she  reflected,  "that  my 
nature  thus  betrays  my  weakness." 

Disturbed  and  even  excited,  she  leaped  out  of  the  bed. 
Slipping  on  her  dressing  gown  she  stepped  over  to  the  win- 
dow and  peered  through  the  lattice  of  a  shutter. 

The  sun  was  already  well  risen,  and  gilding  the  mean- 
dering line  of  the  Golden  Horn,  painted  the  cypress  groves 
with  a  vivider  green  and  whitened  the  marble  domes  of  the 
Mosques  and  the  sentinel  shafts  of  the  minarets  which  stood 
guard  over  them.  The  shining  water  was  flecked  here  and 
there  with  the  gleaming  white  of  a  sail.  Sky,  sea  and  shore 
line  became  a  color  picture  intoned  with  the  morning  light. 

The  view  soothed  her  for  a  moment  and  a  smile  lighted 
her  face  as  her  eyes  passed  over  the  panorama  from  the 
sea  to  the  distant  azure  line  of  the  mountains  beyond. 

"Ah!  That  is  the  Golden  Horn!"  she  exclaimed.  "How 
beautiful,  how  glorious  it  is.  How  can  I  ever  think  of 
being  miserable  amid  the  glories  of  these  scenes." 

She  went  to  get  her  opera  glasses,  and  with  them  scanned 
the  line  of  the  Golden  Horn,  till  finally  there  flashed  before 
her,  through  the  glasses  as  she  moved  them  about,  the 
length  of  a  street,  its  latticed  balconies  bracketed  out  over 
the  rough  stone  curbing,  strung  along  with  shutters  taken 
down  from  the  lower  doorways  and  windows. 

There   was   not   a   woman   to   be   seen   about — only   men, 


126 

whose  red  fezes  stood  out  fiery  in  the  sombre  width  of  the 
melancholy  street. 

Then  suddenly,  in  the  direct  line  of  her  glass,  she  saw 
one  of  the  latticed  windows  opened — opened  with  the  calm 
assurance  that  those  within  could  not  be  observed  from  the 
street  or  surrounding  houses — ,  and  there  in  the  window 
appeared  the  form  of  a  woman  clasping  a  child  to  her 
breast  as  she  tenderly  kissed  it. 

Some  dogs,  snarling  and  quarreling  over  a  bone  in  the 
street  below  for  a  moment  diverted  her  attention.  When 
she  again  looked  the  window  wras  closed.  The  picture  of 
the  mother  and  babe  had  vanished,  and  as  she  again  swept 
the  streets  with  her  glasses  there  was  nothing  but  men, 
with  their  long  coats  or  sleeveless  jackets,  to  be  seen. 

Again  she  covered  the  distant  outline  of  the  Golden  Horn, 
where  its  salty  waters  were  joined  by  the  Sweet  Springs 
of  Asia,  and  mechanically  she  repeated  to  herself: 

"I  am  happy.  I  am  happy.  I  cannot  be  lonely.  I  cannot 
be  lonely." 

Then  she  turned,  and  put  aside  the  glasses  in  a  deliberate 
measured  way,  as  though  to  control  some  emotion  within 
her. 

But  finally,  on  a  sudden  impulse,  she  threw  herself  upon 
the  bed  and  burying  her  face  in  the  pillows,  sobbed  aloud. 
And  the  picture  of  the  mother  and  babe  still  haunted  her, 
and  she  realized  that  the  babe  at  the  mother's  breast  was 
the  soul  motive  of  the  whole  world. 


IX 
IT  IS  GROWING  LATE 


I*"-'"          '  "  "rf»  ' 

While  Magnus  was  busy  making  his  contracts  for  the 
purchase  of  foodstuffs,  Athena  and  her  father,  with  a  drago- 
man especially  selected  by  Magnus,  made  the  trip  to 
Broussa,  the  ancient  capital  of  the  Ottoman  Empire. 

They  left  their  yacht  moored  up  the  Golden  Horn  beyond 
the  bridge  of  Galata,  and  took  passage  on  a  foul  little 
steamer  from  which  they  were  heartily  glad  to  escape  after 
the  few  hours'  journey  brought  them  across  the  sea  of 
Marmora  to  Modania,  the  port  of  Broussa. 

"They  tell  me,"  remarked  the  old  man  to  his  daughter, 


"IT  IS  GROWING  LATE"  127 

after  they  had  taken  the  train  and  were  jogging  along 
through  the  wonderful  hills  that  led  to  the  terraced  valley, 
where  Broussa,  the  splendid  lay,  ''they  tell  me  that  Broussa 
is  the  most  Turkish  city  in  the  world — ,  that  ninety  per 
cent  of  its  inhabitants  are  pure  Turks.  Now,  do  you  know," 
he  confided,  as  he  let  the  pages  of  the  guide  book  run 
through  his  fingers,  "we  have  been  in  Constantinople  for 
a  fortnight  and  outside  those  cheaply  uniformed  soldiers 
that  we  saw  everywhere,  I  have  never  been  very  sure  that 
I  have  seen  any  Turks.  The  guide  told  me  that  nearly  all 
the  shop  keepers  are  Armenians." 

"Yes,"  returned  Athena.  "That  also  has  been  puzzling 
me  since  I  have  been  here.  We  are  actually  in  Turkey  and 
in  the  Capital  of  the  great  Turkish  Empire  and  yet  it  doesn't 
seem  to  be  as  Turkish  as  Cairo  or  even  Algiers." 

"I  am  surprised,"  remarked  Ward,  as  he  waved  his  hand 
towards  the  beautifully  cultivated  fields  bursting  open  with 
the  prodigality  of  bumper  crops,  "that  the  Baron  didn't 
come  to  Turkey  to  find  his  'irresistible  land,'  instead  of  in 
the  mountains  of  Albania.  What  a  delight  it  must  be  to 
farm  such  soil  as  this.  And  they  tell  me,"  he  continued 
abstractedly,  "that  under  modern  farming  methods  there 
are  the  greatest  of  possibilities  in  the  great  ancient  plain 
of  Mesopotamia,  which  is  susceptible  to  the  simplest  sort 
of  an  accessible  irrigation.  Then  besides,  the  Turks  have 
within  their  dominions  those  great  cedar  forests  still  pre- 
served from  the  time  of  the  Bible  and  known  as  the  cedars 
of  Lebanon." 

After  they  had  been  in  Broussa  a  couple  of  days,  the 
quiet  and  calm  and  charm  of  that  ancient  Capital  seemed 
to  assuage  Athena's  troubled  spirit,  and  it  was  only  in 
spells  that  she  still  felt  that  distressed  feeling  which  she 
described  as  loneliness. 

In  the  cool  of  an  afternoon,  after  visiting  the  last  of  the 
wonderful  tombs,  they  had  come  up  to  a  point  in  the  road 
beyond  Broussa  where  all  its  glories  were  spread  out  before 
them  in  one  luminous  panoramic  display.  The  white  domes 
of  the  mosques  and  tombs,  the  gleaming  mellowed  ivory 
of  the  minarets,  the  rich  red  glint  of  the  tiled  roofs  of 
dwellings  enframed  and  embowered  in  groves  of  orange, 
citron  and  olive,  with  here  and  there  the  steepled  form  of 
a  cypress  shot  upward  from  the.  flower  gardens  beneath, 
long  held  them  entranced  amid  the  wonders  of  the  valley 


128  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

scene,  contrasting  so  strangely  with  the  great  rough  shaggy 
outline  of  the  mountain  beyond,  whose  rocky  base  broke 
out  against  the  opalescent  waters  of  Marmara,  blending 
with  the  blue  of  the  heavens  above. 

"Three  score  and  ten,"  murmured  the  old  man  to  himself 
in  a  tone  which  caused  Athena,  who  immediately  caught  the 
meaning,  to  nestle  closer  to  him  as  she  gathered  her  rounded 
arms  about  his  own.  "Yes,"  repeated  the  father.  "Yes, 
three  score  and  ten  are  the  years  that  are  allotted  by  the 
Bible  as  the  end  of  man's  travel  in  this  world  of  pleasure 
and  pain,  and  yet  I  am  going  on  ....  on  the  journey — so 
much  further." 

"Oh,"  expostulated  Athena.  "Let  us  not  speak  about 
it.  You  must  live  for  many,  many  years." 

"Oh,  don't  distress  yourself,  daughter,"  he  returned, 
gently  patting  her  hand.  "There  is  no  reason  why  anyone 
should  distress  himself  about  death,  for  it  is  only  the  gate- 
way to  something  beyond.  But  do  you  know,"  he  con- 
tinued, looking  at  her  tenderly,  "I  sometimes  think  that 
it  would  have  been  better  for  me  to  have  gone  first,  rather 
than  your  mother.  For  a  father  can  never  talk  to  a 
daughter  as  can  a  mother.  I  know  that  if  she  were  here  she 
could  advise  you  as  I  will  never  be  able  to  do." 

Athena  felt  confused  and  her  cheeks  flushed.  For  the 
moment  she  knew  not  why,  and  then  remembered  that  there 
were  times  when,  by  some  strange  psychological  sympathy, 
her  father  seemed  to  divine  her  very  thoughts. 

"You  have  been  lonely,  child,  since  the  party  was  broken 
up — since  the  others  left,  have  you  not?"  he  tenderly  asked. 

Athena,  looking  down  at  the  ground,  made  a  mark  on 
the  sand  with  the  trim  edge  of  her  shapely  shoe. 

"Oh,"  she  returned.  "During  the  cruise  there  was  so 
much  excitement  and  movement,  so  much  of — oh,  I  don't 
know  what — and,  of  course,  the  change  would  affect  one." 

"Yes,"  he  said  reflectively.  "Undoubtedly,"  and  then 
slowly  added: 

"It  is  hard  for  even  a  father  to  understand  his  daughter 
when  there  is  so  much  difference  in  their  ages.  Do  you 
know  that  yesterday  when  we  were  visiting  that  great 
Sultan's  tomb  it  seemed  to  me  that  as  far  as  being  able  to 
give  you  any  advice  that  I  might  as  well  be  boarded  into 
the  sarcophagus  in  his  place  and  covered  over  with  the 
cloth  of  embroidered  gold,  a  turban  on  the  top  and  the  two 


"IT  IS  GROWING  LATE"  129 

giant  candles  on  the  side:"  "Ah,"  he  continued,  as  the 
tender  smile  still  lingered  on  his  face,  "it  seems  sad  that 
the  relations  of  sex  with  its  corresponding  differences  of 
view  seem  to  unfit  a  father  from  even  attempting  to  advise 
with  his  own  girl  child  who  has  to  look  at  things  from  the 
standpoint  of  a  woman." 

"I — ,   I — ,  don't  understand,"  faltered  Athena. 

"And  neither  do  I,"  returned  her  father.  "Neither  do 
I  understand  how  I  am  impotent  to  advise  you — you,  whom 
I  love  above  all — but  the  thought  has  been  with  me  fre- 
quently of  late  that  if — if,  for  example,  I  should  go  sud- 
denly— ,  that  then  there  will  be  no  one  else  to  take  my 
place  as  your  protector;  that — ,  that — ,"  he  continued 
slowly  as  his  clear  eyes  sought  the  line  of  reddening 
mountains  beyond  where  the  blue  sea  rose  to  catch  the 
setting  sun,  "that  then  you  might  be  even  lonelier  'than 
you  have  been  since  the  others  left  us.  I  sometimes  think 
that  I  have  not  done  my  full  duty  towards  you." 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  reproachfully,  and  noticed 
for  almost  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  the  skin  on  his 
cheeks  was  drawn  parchment-like,  with  wrinkles  furrowed 
deep  and  long.  In  a  flash  she  was  seeing  him  under  a  new 
light — a  light  that  was  fading  rapidly,  and  which,  when 
gone,  would  forever  put  darkness  between  them. 

"Oh,  father!"  she  exclaimed,  gathering  his  hands  up 
into  hers. 

"I  think  you  understand,"  he  continued.  "I  think  that 
you  understand  the  thought  that  is  now  with  me  al- 
ways, that  I  have  not  forecast  sufficiently  the  time  when 
I  shall  go  beyond  and  leave  you — leave  you  without  my 
protection. ' ' 

His  voice  sank  lower. 

"And  now  in  the  midst  of  these  beautiful  scenes,  while 
we  are  all  alone — all  alone  to  make  our  plans — what  time 
or  place  could  be  more  appropriate  for  the  calm  deliberation 
upon  that  which  eventually  and  perhaps  sooner  than  we 
think  will  surely  happen." 

"But  father!"  she  exclaimed.  "You  are  so  well!  you 
are  so  strong;  why  should  you  speak  thus?" 

Gently  he  disengaged  his  hand  from  hers  and  held  it 
up  before  him. 

"See,"  he  exclaimed.  "There  on  my  hand  is  a  bruise. 
Just  a  bruise  caused  by  knocking  against  a  rock  that  day 


130  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

in  Epirus  when  O'Rourke  saved  our  lives.  It  is  just  a 
bruise  and  it  happened  a  month  ago,  but  see,  it  does  not 
heal.  That  means  that  every  beat  of  my  heart  is  measured." 

He  stood  still,  holding  his  hand  up  before  him — a 
wrinkled,  knotty  hand  upon  which  the  knuckles  and  finger 
joints  puckered  up  the  skin  in  lumpy  furrows. 

Athena's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"What  will  life  be  to  me  without  you!"  she  expostulated 
bitterly. 

Gently  he  drew  her  to  him  and  together  they  strolled 
down  the  highway,  the  cedars  throwing  their  lengthening 
shadows  deep  into  the  vale  beneath  them.  As  the  last  rays 
of  the  setting  sun  were  falling,  they  came  to  one  of  those 
strange  little  cemeteries  which  appear  at  every  long  road 
turning  in  the  land  of  the  Moslem,  with  its  strange  tomb- 
stones, surmounted  with  stone  carved  turbans  or  marble 
tops,  covered  with  flowing  lines  of  Arabic  inscriptions,  the 
slabs  out  of  plumb  pitching  one  toward  the  other  and  some 
entirely  fallen  among  the  .growth  of  weeds  upon  which 
sweep  the  black  shadows  of  the  majestic  forms  of  the  cedars 
above.  Beyond  the  roadside  cemetery  a  huddled,  white- 
gowned  figure  was  going  into  the  gateway,  suggestive  of  a 
spirit  passing  into  the  other  land. 

Athena  shuddered.  But  her  father,  approaching  the 
fountain  nearby,  sat  down  upon  the  broken  edge  of  the 
wall  and  lightly,  with  his  hand  serving  as  a  cup,  sipped 
some  of  the  water.  For  some  time  they  sat  in  silence. 
Two  or  three  lads,  sandal-footed,  baggy-trousered,  short- 
jacketed  and  red  fezed,  passing,  paused  and  looked  at 
them  curiously,  and  then  went  on  down  into  the  street 
into  the  great  darkened  doorway  of  the  wall  beyond  where 
the  white  robed  figure  of  the  woman  had  passed  like  a 
ghost. 

"How  mournful,"  murmured  Athena.  "Come,  father, 
let  us  go.  It  is  growing  late." 

"Yes?"  repeated  the  old  man,  rising  wearily,  but  with 
a  smile  still  playing  upon  his  features.  "Yes.  It  is  growing 
late.  It  is  growing  late ;  the  day  is  almost  done  and  still 
my  work  is  not  finished.  It  is  growing  late,  but  God  will 
still  grant  me  the  time." 


'Beyond  the  roadside  cemetery  a  huddled,  white  gowned  figure  was  going  into 
the  gateway,  suggestive  of  a  spirit  passing  into  the  other  land."     (Page  130.) 


GOLDEN  EAGLES  BACKSHEESH  131 


X 

GOLDEN  EAGLES  BACKSHEESH 

Cholera  had  broken  out  in  Broussa  and  under  the  advice 
of  their  dragoman,  Athena  and  her  father  made  prepa- 
rations to  return  to  Constantinople.  All  the  regular  sailings 
across  the  Sea  of  Marmora  from  Modania  had  been  quaran- 
tined except  one  little  side  wheel  steamer  of  but  a  single 
deck  and  that  inadequately  covered  against  the  weather  by 
a  ragged  canvas.  They  would  never  have  taken  this  craft 
had  they  known  that  it  also  was  to  be  quarantined,  and 
quarantined  in  a  place  where  even  the  magic  gold  of  back- 
sheesh  would  not  avail  them. 

After  the  ancient  engine  had  thrashed  away  for  most 
of  the  afternoon  they  were  well  in  sight  of  the  minarets  of 
Constantinople,  when  with  great  bawling  and  yelling  the 
anchor  was  dropped  and  their  dragoman  came  to  them  in 
an  excitement  unusual  for  his  Oriental  equanimity. 

"Alas,"  he  cried.  "These  Captain  eez  one  beeg  fo-ol 
man.  'E  'av  tol  me  that  he  go  to  Constantinople  but  he 
'av  fo-ol  me.  He  come  here,  I  think,  to  get  backsheesh. " 

Then  the  Captain  himself,  calling  upon  Allah  in  all  sorts 
of  obligations,  exhibited  in  his  defense  a  mild-looking  indi- 
vidual, with  a  dreamy  face,  a  gesture  of  resignation,  a  frock 
coat  and  the  eternal  fez  (quite  as  greasy  as  any  other), 
who  portentiously  carried  under  his  arm  the  authorization 
for  the  quarantine,  and  once  he  had  delivered  it  to  the 
Captain,  was  immediately  rowed  away  in  his  small  boat, 
not  giving  the  slightest  opportunity  for  a  tender  of  back- 
sheesh; conduct  which  was  certainly  unbecoming  a  Turkish 
officer  and  Oriental  gentleman  of  quarantine.  After  long 
and  violent  volleys  of  word  firing,  counterfiring  and 
parrying,  speeches  of  blasting  sounds  which  even  out-howled 
the  howling  dervishes,  between  the  Captain  and  the  drago- 
man, the  latter  finally  returned  supinely  to  that  less  com- 
pressed part  of  the  deckt  which  had  beien  reserved  for 
Athena  and  her  father,  who,  surrounded  by  a  curious  group 
of  peasants  of  many  different  near-Eastern  nationalities 
were  rather  the  whole  pivot,  than  the  mere  center  of  at- 
traction. 


132  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

The  guide  dropped  down  into  the  seat,  and  drooled  de- 
jectedly : 

"I  'av  'eard  of  cer-tain  peepul  who  hold  ritch  peepul 
for  ran-sum,  but  eet  eez  for  first  time  I  know  making  quar- 
anteen  for  ritch  peepul  to  pay  backsheesh. " 

"What?"  asked  Ward,  who  quickly  understood  the 
broken  English.  "Has  this  quarantine  been  especially  pre- 
pared to  extort  money  from  us?" 

"Y-es.  I  think,  gen-tulman,  that  eet  eez  for  corrupting 
of-fi-cial  to  get  much  backsheesh,  and  I  am  being  afraid 
that  you  think  that  I  am  bad  dragoman." 

"Well,  ask  the  Captain  how  much  he  wants,"  commanded 
Ward. 

The  dragoman's  face  flexed  up  with  a  sly  look,  and 
bowing  obsequiously,  he  went  to  comply  with  the  command, 
and  returning  shortly,  said: 

"Theez  bad  Cap-tain  ask  one  thou-sand  mejedie." 

"What!"    exclaimed   Ward.      "One   thousand   mejedie?" 

"Y-es,"  responded  the  dragoman  casting  his  eyes  to  the 
dirty  deck  of  the  boat. 

"But  that,"  insisted  Ward,  "would  be  paying  a  bribe, 
not  giving  a  tip.  I  never  give  bribes.  I  only  give  rewards 
and  tips." 

The  dragoman  raised  his  hand  to  heaven  as  in  a  sup- 
lication,  and  then  with  gritted  teeth,  shook  his  clenched 
fists  towards  the  Captain,  who,  from  his  wheel,  responded 
in  an  explosion  of  vituperation,  stamping  his  foot  until  the 
decrepit  deck  rattled. 

"I  wish  that  we  had  brought  the  Baron,"  remarked  Ward 
calmly.  "I  don't  understand  why  he  advised  us  to  take 
this  dragoman  and  leave  our  servants  behind.  This  seems 
to  be  a  rather  isolated  part  of  the  sea,  and  now  it  is  after 
office  hours,  if  they  really  have  anything  of  that  sort  here. 
I  presume  that  if  it  is  a  bonafide  quarantine  that  we  will 
have  to  stay  here  until  morning  at  least,  unless  we  can  get 
somebody  ashore  with  the  message  to  have  the  Baron  release 
us.  I  would  gladly  pay  the  thousand  mejedie  were  it  not 
an  absolute  violation  of  every  principle  I  have  ever  had. 
But  you  simply  cannot  stay  here  over  night,"  he  said  solici- 
tously to  Athena.  "I  would  not  for  the  world  let  you 
undergo  a  night  on  such  a  horrid  little  craft  as  this." 

Suddenly  an  idea  occurred  to  him. 

"Here,"  he  asked  of  the  guide.  "Who  is  the  owner  of 
this  craft?" 


GOLDEN  EAGLES  BACKSHEESH  133 

"The  Captain  sez  that  he  be  the  own-er." 

"How  much  does  he  say  that  the  thing  is  worth?" 

"I  weel  go  to  see,"  responded  the  dragoman  slyly,  and 
then  returned  reporting: 

"He  say  that  he  can  no  sell,  but  that  he  weel  give  right 
to  go  on  ship  to  Constantinople,  and  be-side,  he  want  cash 
money. ' ' 

Ward  looked  at  him  musingly,  and  repeated: 

"Cash  money,  he  wants,  does  he?  Well,  I  haven't  much 
cash  money  when  it  comes  to  buying  a  ship,"  and  absent- 
mindedly  putting  his  hand  down  into  his  deep  trousered 
pocket,  he  pulled  out  a  wallet  heavy  with  American  Eagles 
(he  always  carried  American  gold  with  him  on  his  travels), 
whose  clear  metallic  chink,  of  golden  tone  never  to  be  mis- 
taken, came  through  the  thickness  of  the  leather.  He  bal- 
anced it  in  his  hand  for  a  moment,  the  coins  clinking  all 
the  while. 

"I  don't  know  how  much  there  is  here,"  he  mused,  "but 
I  will  give  this  and  ten  times  or  twenty  times  as  much 
more  when  I  get  to  Constantinople  to  anyone  who  will  save 
my  daughter  from  the  annoyance  of  staying  on  this  dirty 
steamer. ' ' 

"Yes,"  remarked  the  dragoman.  "Not  only  dir-tee,  but 
so  many  seek  peepul  too.  See,"  and  he  pointed  his  fat, 
oily  hand  down  the  deck,  "now  they  vomit  with  the  sick- 
ness. ' ' 

As  he  spoke,  the  violent,  hard,  rasping  vomiting  of  a 
cholera  victim,  which  once  heard  is  never  forgotten,  came 
to  them  from  the  farther  end  of  the  deck,  from  which  the 
rest  of  the  passengers  were  fleeing  as  if  from  a  lazaret  of 
lepers,  leaving  the  poor  victim  writhing,  purging  and 
vomiting  in  the  fatal  and  quick  action  of  the  sickness. 

Athena  put  her  hands  up  to  her  face  to  shut  off  the  dread- 
ful sight.  All  about  her  was  confusion  and  riot,  as  the 
passengers,  all  of  the  lower  class,  ran  to  the  other  side  of 
the  boat  until  it  listed  so  that  her  folding  chair  slipped 
from  beneath  her. 

"Now  you  see!"  cried  the  dragoman.  "You  see  that  thees 
quarantine  is  re-ul." 

Ward  pushed  through  the  crowd  over  against  the  taff- 
rail,  pulling  Athena  and  her  stool  along  with  him,  extending 
his  hand  behind  his  back  and  still  clinging  to  hers. 

"We  must  get  out  of  this  as  soon  as  possible,"  he 
whispered  to  the  dragoman. 


134  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"But  they  will  shoot!  They  will  shoot!"  exclaimed  the 
dragoman  excitedly. 

"Ward  reflected.  .  .  .  The  predicament  was  indeed  serious. 
Their  lives  were  in  danger  by  an  immediate  contact  with  the 
actual  presence  of  cholera.  He  did  not  know  much  about 
the  sickness;  did  not  know  whether  it  was  contagious  or  in- 
fectious— rr  both.  But  he  did  know  that  it  was  one  of  the 
most  dreadful  sicknesses  ever  suffered  by  humanity.  He 
considered  the  frailty  of  his  own  old  age  as  nothing  com- 
pared to  the  nervous  shock  which  his  daughter  would  have 
to  endure  with  those  agonizing  victims  of  the  plague. 

"How  long  is  this  quarantine  supposed  to  last?"  he 
calmly  asked  of  the  dragoman. 

"I  don't  know,"  stammered  the  dragoman.  "I  on-ly 
know  that  quarantena  means  for-tee.  Sometimes  I  hear  that 
they  make  eet  for-tee  days.  May -bee  sometimes  more — may- 
bee  sometimes  less." 

"But  you  are  the  only  one  who  can  talk  English  on  the 
boat,  and  you  must  interpret  for  us,  and  get  us  out  of  this 
as  soon  as  you  can.  Whatever  service  you  may  do  me  will 
be  well  rewarded,"  declared  Ward. 

"But  I  am  Ar-menian;  not  Turk,"  returned  the  drago- 
man, "and  the  Turkish  Cap-tain  always  call  me  bad  names, 
for  not  being  Turk — ,  but  only  Christ-ian  dog." 

"My  daughter  speaks  French  and  German.  Perhaps 
there  may  be  among  these  those  who  can  speak  those  lan- 
guages," suggested  Ward  in  the  vain  hope  of  extending 
his  acquaintance  to  someone  who  would  help  him  in  his 
predicament. 

"Ah,  no,"  responded  the  dragoman.  "All  these  peepul 
poor.  Farm  and  labor  peepul.  They  only  speak  Armenian, 
Turk  or  Kurd." 

"Let  me  speak  to  my  daughter  alone  a  moment,"  said 
Ward,  quietly  gathering  Athena  up  from  her  chair. 

Her  face  was  white  and  her  lips  quivering. 

' '  Oh,  father ! ' '  she  exclaimed, ' '  I  fear  so  much  for  you. 
We  are  in  danger,  aren't  we?  In  danger  of  that  awful 
sickness  and  then  from  these  dreadful  men." 

"Oh,  do  not  be  alarmed,  daughter.  I  am  sure  it  will 
only  be  a  question  of  a  short  time  before  I  can  find  some 
way  to  get  us  out  of  this  fix." 

There  was  not  even  the  semblance  of  a  cabin  on  the  little 
side  wheeler.  Nothing  but  a  sort  of  a  long  table  screwed 


GOLDEN  EAGLES  BACKSHEESfr  135 

down  before  the  steering  wheel  which  served  the  Captain 
as  both  mess  table  and  bed.  Just  beyond  it  was  the  only 
water  cask  on  the  boat,  and  to  it  the  cholera  victim  had 
crawled  on  his  hands  and  knees  and  was  splashing  his  hands 
into  it,  fouled  with  the  filth  of  the  deck  and  his  own  poison- 
ous sputum,  in  a  vain  effort  to  drink,  while  the  other  pas- 
sengers drew  back  from  him  in  terror. 

The  Turkish  Captain,  who  had  been  down  into  the  engine 
pit,  coming  up,  aimed  a  kick  at  the  sick  man.  Ward,  on 
a  sudden  impulse,  strode  forward  and  seized  him  by  the 
shoulder. 

"By  God,"  he  exclaimed,  with  flashing  eyes.  "I'm  pretty 
old  but  if  you  kick  that  sick  man  again  I  will  throw  you 
overboard ! ' ' 

The  Turk  looked  at  him  doggedly,  his  fists  clinched  and 
body  poised  as  though  he  would  lunge  upon  the  old  man, 
but  as  Ward  still  steadily  gazed  at  him,  with  face  earnest 
and  resolute,  he  cringed  downward  in  an  obsequious  bow, 
which  showed  the  white  lines  of  his  teeth  in  a  snarling  smile, 
muttering  something  in  Turkish. 

The  dragoman  came  up. 

"Tell  him,"  commanded  Ward,  "that  he  is  the  skipper 
of  this  boat  and  must  treat  all  his  passengers  humanely; 
that  he  should  make  some  immediate  arrangement  for  the 
care  of  the  sick  man." 

The  dragoman  apparently  did  as  he  was  directed.  The 
Armenian  and  Turk,  indulged  again  in  a  cross-fire  talk, 
which  finally,  Oriental-wise,  resulted  in  a  confidential  de- 
liberation. 

"What  does  he  say?"  asked  Ward  of  the  dragoman. 

"  'Im  say  y-es.  Y-es,  that  'im  will  do  what  you  wish. 
I  tol  'im  that  you  ritch  American  and  eef  he  no  want 
plen-ty  trou-ble  that  he  must  let  you  go  a-shore.  'im  say 
y-es.  That  he  have  two  good  men  to  let  take  you  come 
a-shore.  But  not  teel  night,  for  then  no  one  can  see  to 
shoot. ' ' 

Ward  hastened  to  return  to  his  daughter  to  tell  her  the 
good  news.  Some  blankets  were  furnished  them,  laid  upon 
the  paddles  of  one  of  the  wheels,  where,  in  a  measure,  they 
were  in  cleaner  surroundings,  and  where  they  awaited  the 
setting  of  the  sun  and  the  approach  of  night  for  their 
escape. 

The  ancient  side  wheels  of  the  little  boat  were  of  a  high 


136  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

grotesque  pattern  whose  paddles  were  opened  from  one  side 
to  the  other. 

Shortly  after  night-fall,  the  lap  of  oars  in  the  still  water 
approached  them  from  around  the  other  side  of  the  boat. 

"Ah,"  murmured  Ward,  pressing  his  daughter's  hand. 
"They  have  kept  their  word.  They  are  coming  to  take  us 
to  shore." 

Athena  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  answered  by  a  re- 
sponding pressure  of  her  father's  hand. 

The  boat  lightly  touched  against  the  wheel  box  and  a 
hand,  reaching  up  out  of  the  darkness,  motioned  for  them 
to  come. 

"We  won't  bother  about  the  baggage  now,"  whispered 
Ward.  "We're  glad  enough  to  get  away  as  it  is.  Here, 
I'll  go  first  to  make  sure  that  it  is  all  right.  Be  careful 
that  you  do  not  trip  on  your  dress." 

Slowly  and  cautiously  he  threw  himself  out  over  the 
lowest  tread  of  the  paddle  wheel. 

Athena  heard  the  rowboat  grate  against  the  steamer's 
side  as  he  got  into  it.  Then  there  rasped  out  a  heavy  ex- 
haust of  breath  which  she  could  not  realize  came  from  her 
father.  The  sound  of  whispered  ejaculations  followed, 
weird  and  uncanny  in  a  strange  language;  and  then  before 
she  could  give  herself  the  slightest  account  of  what  was  hap- 
pening, the  muffled  oars  pulled  the  boat  away  and  all  was 
confusion  about  her  on  the  deck. 

"Father!  Oh,  father!"  she  cried  in  a  loud  voice  that 
rang  out  over  the  still  waters. 

But  there  was  no  answering  call.  .  .  .  Her  father  had 
been  taken  from  her. 


XI 
SWEET  WATERS  OF  ASIA 

The  military  guard  from  the  end  of  the  Bridge  of  Galata 
uttered  a  snarl  of  commands  whose  confusion  hardly  fitted 
the  precision  with  which  the  change  was  made  under  tactics 
taught  by  German  drill  masters. 

A  man  came  hurrying  by,  dressed  in  European  clothes, 
but  of  such  make  and  pattern  and  so  inconspicuous  that  the 
most  cosmopolitan  observer  could  not  have  been  able  from 
them  to  have  guessed  his  nationality. 


SWEET  WATERS  OF  ASIA  137 

As  he  came  along  past  the  guard,  he  slackened  his  pace, 
and  finally  stood  under  the  protecting  shade  of  the  awning 
of  a  brass-ware  merchant  opposite. 

With  an  alert  eye  he  watched  the  muscular,  stocky  forms 
of  the  soldiers,  dressed  in  their  color-run,  cheap  cotton 
uniforms,  with  nothing  but  the  red  of  their  fezes  to  carry 
the  uniformity  of  the  otherwise  faded  dress.  But  there  was 
a  look  of  admiration  in  the  stranger's  face  as  he  watched 
how  the  brown  hands  snapped  the  rifles  back  to  their 
shoulders  and  the  stolid,  emotionless  faces  dressed  first  to 
the  right  and  then  front.  He  still  stood  and  watched  until 
the  rifles,  at  the  order,  crashed  to  the  ground,  heels  clacking 
together  then  the  snap  of  the  hands  at  present,  the  carry 
and  finally  the  heavy  tread  and  stamp  over  the  paving 
stones  as  the  new  guard  filed  in  and  the  old  guard  filed 
away. 

"Not  such  a  bad  lot  after  all.  I  don't  suppose  there 
is  a  man  there  who  has  not  been  under  fire  a  dozen  times," 
said  the  onlooker  to  himself.  "Strange,"  he  continued  in 
his  reflection,  "there  is  no  duty  so  important  but  that  I 
always  have  a  minute  to  watch  any  sort  of  a  soldier,  but  I 
certainly  have  no  time  to  lose  now,"  and  with  this  final 
thought  he  hurried  past  the  line  of  cab  horses,  tossing  away 
the  flies  with  their  noses,  and  rushing  out  upon  the  bridge  in 
his  haste  almost  (marvelous  to  relate)  got  by  the  white  robed 
toll  collector,  whose  pocketless  white  gown  was  the  uniform 
of  Turkish  dishonesty  and  a  strait  jacket  of  official  re- 
straint. 

Even  as  he  gave  over  to  the  toll  collector,  whose  hand 
was  already  half  filled  with  coins,  one  of  the  copper-al- 
loyed bits  of  silver,  sinister  tokens  of  Turkish  minting,  he 
scanned  the  Golden  Horn,  to  the  right  and  the  left,  and 
then  bounded  forward,  farther  out  on  the  bridge,  still  look- 
ing about  him. 

Beyond  loomed  up  the  tower  of  Galata,  over  the  facades, 
and  roofs  of  the  European  style  buildings  fringed  out  be- 
yond by  the  shaggy  outline  of  cypress. 

A  look  of  disappointment  came  over  his  face.  He  slack- 
ened his  pace,  although  still  looking  eagerly  over  either 
side  of  the  bridge  rail,  as  he  hurried  onward. 

Finally  he  stopped  and  taking  out  a  small  field  glass 
looked  up  on  the  Golden  Horn. 

Two  or  three  loungers  gathered  about  him,   and  an  old 


138 


MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 


carrier,  with  a  final  groan  under  his  heavy  burden,  threw 
it  aside,  putting  his  hand  on  his  back  as  he  somewhat 
straightened  himself,  mopping  his  forehead  and  looking  at 
the  athletic,  sinewy  form  of  the  foreigner,  who  stood  gaz- 
ing off  along  the  winding  line  of  the  Golden  Horn,  entirely 
regardless  of  the  fact  that  he  had  excited  the  curiosity 
of  onlookers. 

Suddenly  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  joy,  and  running 
down  upon  one  of  the  boat  landings,  jumped  into  one  of 
those  quaint  caiques,  little  oar  boats  with  skate-like  lines, 
and  at  a  quiet  command  was  hurriedly  oared  away  in  the  di- 
rection in  which  he  had  been  gazing. 

Well  out  in  midstream  he  altered  his  course,  going  out 
farther  and  farther  toward  the  Sweet  Waters  of  Asia. 
Finally  he  ordered  the  boatman  to  take  him  directly  over 
to  where  the  white,  bird-like  form  of  a  yacht  lay. 

"I  hardly  dare,"  thought  he  to  himself,  "go  any  nearer, 
for  it  does  not  seem  safe  to  let  that  fellow  Magnus  know 
the  Prince  released  me  from  the  prison  where  Magnus  put 
me  and  I  have  followed  here.  It  is  best  to  leave  well 
enough  alone.  They  can't  leave  until  they  have  cleared 
through  the  Captain  of  the  port,  and  in  the  meantime  I 
can  enlist  our  American  Minister's  service  to  find  out 
whether  the  Wards  are  here  in  safety." 

He  ordered  himself  landed  at  a  point  well  out  from  the 
bridge,  jumped  into  a  cab  and  was  soon  at  the  entrance 
of  the  American  embassy. 

"Your  card,  please,"  said  the  embassy  Dragoman.  The 
broad-shouldered  stranger  slipped  out  in  his  sunburnt  hand 
a  modest  bit  of  pasteboard  upon  which  was  engraved  the 
simple  name : 


TIMOTHY   O'ROURKE 


THE  ISLES  OF  PRINCES  139 


XII 
THE  ISLES  OF  PRINCES 

O'Rourke  went  to  the  embassy  in  forethought  of  his 
plans,  for  he  did  not  want  to  commence  his  operations  against 
Magnus  until  he  had  established  his  identity  at  the  embassy  as 
a  precaution  for  the  necessity  of  invoking  the  aid  of  the 
American  representative  in  case  of  complications. 

Hence  his  call  was  largely  perfunctory.  The  Minister  had 
heard  of  him — in  fact  had  read  some  of  his  books — and  invited 
him  cordially  to  luncheon,  an  invitation  which,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances of  O'Rourke 's  haste,  could  not  be  accepted.  So 
after  a  brief  call  he  took  his  leave  and  went  to  the  hotel  where 
he  had  ascertained  that  Magnus  had  taken  lodgings  for  Ward 
and  his  daughter. 

Being  told  that  they  had  both  gone  over  on  a  jaunt  to 
Broussa,  he  lost  no  time  in  hurrying  over  the  Sea  of  Mar- 
mora, fearful  lest  the  quarantine,  of  which  he  knew  before 
the  Wards  themselves  might,  in  some  way,  interfere  with 
his  rejoining  Athena  and  her  father.  He  took  measures 
against  being  detained  by  the  quarantine  upon  his  return 
by  hiring  a  small  caique  which  he  could  row  or  sail  himself. 

He  arrived  at  Modania  only  to  find  that  those  he  sought 
had  left  on  the  last  little  steamer  for  Constantinople,  which 
was  pointed  out  to  him  as  a  blotch  of  smoke  hardly  discern- 
able  in  the  distance. 

He  immediately  set  out  to  follow  it.  He  was  anxious  that 
his  return  to  Constantinople  might  be  as  prompt  as  possible. 
The  steamer  shaped  its  course  around  the  Isles  of  the  Princes 
and  the  breeze  failing  him,  he  despaired  of  ever  making 
Constantinople  within  a  half  dozen  hours  after  the  others 
had  returned. 

But  when  he  came  around  the  Isles  of  the  Princes,  he  was 
delighted  to  find  that  the  steamer  was  anchored  far  in  the 
distance  toward  Toulza.  The  shelter  of  the  islands  took  away 
from  him  what  little  breeze  was  still  blowing  and  he  was  thus 
obliged  to  give  up  the  use  of  the  sail  and  to  bend  himself  to 
the  laborious  rowing  of  the  boat  against  the  tide  bearing  down 
into  the  Bosphorus. 

Night  had  long  fallen  before  he  finally  came  up  within  hail- 


140  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

ing  distance  of  the  steamer  and  before  he  could  finally  account 
to  himself  the  reason  of  its  being  anchored. 

"Perhaps,"  thought  he,  "the  passengers  have  all  left  and 
proceeded  in  caiques  to  the  City,  and  my  long  pull  in  their 
search  will  prove  of  no  avail. ' ' 

But  as  he  came  nearer  he  heard  voices  and  the  movement 
on  the  boat,  which  still  continued,  incited  by  the  calling  of 
Athena  for  her  father  on  his  disappearance  some  half  an  hour 
before.  He  came  nearer  and  could  hear  the  voice  of  the  drago- 
man in  a  loud  tone,  trying  to  exculpate  himself  to  Athena. 

' '  Ah,  dear  ladee !  It  ees  not  my  fault !  I  will  go  look  for 
your  fathaire  as  soon  as  it  ees  light — eef  he  do  not  come 
back.  .  .  .  But  now  there  ees  no  boat  to  go  in,"  and  other 
broken  parts  of  conversation  in  which,  as  the  caique  glided 
noiselessly  onward  through  the  still  water  and  came  as  near 
as  he  dared  to  bring  it  within  the  rim  of  light,  which  showed 
from  the  smoky  lantern  of  the  boat,  he  heard  the  voice  that 
he  knew  so  well — the  voice  of  Athena,  pleading  in  a  high- 
pitched  tone  of  intense  excitement. 

' '  But  we  must  go !  We  must  go  at  once !  Some  harm  must 
have  befallen  him,  for  he  did  not  answer  when  I  called.  We 
must  go  to  find  him  ! ' ' 

"But  there  is  no  boat  to  go,"  repeated  the  dragoman. 
"Even  eef  one  should  come,  the  ignorant  passengers  would 
smash  eet,  so  crazee  are  they  to  get  away  from  the  seekness. ' ' 

O'Rourke  rested  on  his  oars  and  reflected,  still  well  con- 
cealed from  the  observation  of  any  on  the  boat.  He  could 
hardly  believe  what  he  had  heard,  but  there  was  no  mis- 
taking Athena's  voice  and  it  connected  well  with  the  con- 
versation which  came  from  the  other. 

"Evidently,"  thought  he,  "her  father  has  disappeared 
mysteriously  and  she  is  trying  to  rejoin  him  but  cannot  be- 
cause there  is  no  boat,  and  even  if  there  were  a  boat  the 
terrified  passengers  would  founder  it  by  jumping  into  it." 

He  put  his  hand  out  and  let  it  rest  in  the  water.  The 
tide  was  running  strong  and  against  him,  but  the  water 
was  warm.  A  swim  wouldn't  harm  him.  Quickly  he  groped 
into  the  bow  of  the  boat  for  a  fishing  net  which  had  been 
left  there — a  net  of  coarse  cord.  With  his  knife  he  ripped 
it  up  so  as  to  make  a  long  line  of  the  pieces,  which  he  tied 
together  as  he  cut  them  loose,  playing  them  carefully  out 
into  the  water  so  that  they  would  not  ravel  after  he  had 
tied  one  end  to  the  gunwale. 


THE  ISLES  OF  PRINCES  141 

' '  That  ought  to  be  long  enough  now  to  reach  the  steamer, ' ' 
he  reflected  as  he  knotted  on  the  final  piece. 

He  took  off  his  hat,  then  his  coat,  waistcoat  and  shoes, 
and  then  lightly  let  himself  over  the  side  of  the  caique  into 
the  water,  pushing  the  boat  gently  away  from  him.  With 
a  quiet  stroke,  that  hardly  made  a  sound  or  a  ripple,  he  swam 
toward  the  steamer,  at  the  point  where  he  still  heard  the 
loud  voice  of  the  dragoman  talking  excitedly. 

' '  Yes,  ladee.  I  will  find  yo-ur  f athaire  as  soon  as  the  light 
comes.  Do  not  be  'fraid,  ladee.  I  will  be  pro-tect-ing  you." 

O'Rourke  swam  aside  to  get  the  benefit  of  the  shadow 
thrown  by  the  wheel  box  and  was  overjoyed  to  find  that  the 
paddle  slats  were  open  from  outside  straight  into  the  steamer. 
He  drew  himself  up  on  one  of  the  treads  and,  tying  his  line 
to  it,  waited  for  a  chance  to  make  himself  known  to  Athena, 
who  was  now  but  a  couple  of  arm  lengths  from  him  and 
whom  the  excited  crowd  had  pushed  up  close  to  the  paddle 
box. 

A  terrible  burst  of  vomiting  from  one  of  the  sick  caused 
a  movement  among  the  passengers  as  they  tried  to  get  away 
from  the  victim,  and  in  the  confusion  O'Rourke  said  to 
Athena  in  as  loud  a  voice  as  he  dared : 

"It  is  I — O'Rourke,  who  have  come.  Please  don't  speak 
but  follow." 

His  heart  sank  as  he  saw  no  movement  from  the  shadow 
where  she  was  standing. 

"Come — please,  quickly,"  he  pleaded,  as  the  commotion 
on  the  deck  was  again  renewed,  and  darting  forward  he 
seized  her  gown  to  pull  her  toward  him.  He  felt  the  soft 
fabric  first  resist  his  hand  and  then  yield. 

Then  he  heard  a  loud,  strange  cry  in  an  unknown  tongue, 
coming  with  a  thick  gutteral  from  the  throat  of  the  drago- 
man, and  he  felt  the  wool  of  her  dress  being  dragged  and 
torn  away  from  his  grasp  as  there  was  a  sudden  glare  of 
light  from  a  small  electric  lamp  bursting  full  into  his  face. 

Quickly  reaching  up,  he  dashed  the  lamp  down  into  the 
water  and,  throwing  his  arms  about  Athena,  in  a  moment 
he  found  himself  struggling  in  the  sea  with  her  soft  form 
clinging  to  him. 


142  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 


XIII 
IN  THE  MARMORA 

f 

The  fall  brought  O'Rourke  well  away  from  the  boat  and 
seemed  to  stun  Athena,  for  she  lay  limp  as  if  dead. 

To  return  to  the  boat  would  be  to  lose  all  that  he  had 
risked  so  much  to  gain.  His  caique  could  not  be  far  away 
and  once  they  were  within  it,  they  would  be  safe  to  go  to 
look  for  her  father  and  seek  safety  themselves.  It  did  not 
seem  strange  to  him  to  have  Athena  in  his  arms  and  he  did 
not  even  wonder  at  the  extreme  suppleness  of  her  waist  whose 
line  was  hardly  broken  by  the  most  simple  and  yielding  of 
stays.  As  her  hair  brushed  up  over  his  face,  soft  and  silky, 
giving  out  from  the  salt  wetness  of  the  water  a  light  fra- 
grance of  musk,  there  was  no  thought  in  his  mind  that  he 
held  close  to  him,  so  that  he  could  feel  every  heaving  of  her 
breast,  the  beautiful  woman  of  his  life.  No,  he  thought  not 
of  her  but  of  her  father.  Her  he  knew  he  had  safe — at  least 
it  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  bring 
Athena  to  safety — but  the  father,  his  benefactor — the  man 
to  whom  he  felt  himself  bound  by  ties  of  gratitude  as  to  no 
other  man — where  was  he?  It  was  of  her  father  that  he 
thought,  and  how  he  might  rescue  him  from  that  mysterious 
taking  away. 

After  he  was  out  in  the  black  shadow  beyond  the  ship's 
lantern,  he  zigzagged  back  and  forth  looking  for  the  boat. 
Once  or  twice  he  thought  he  felt  his  foot  kicking  against  the 
mooring  line  which  he  had  improvised,  but  feeling  down  with 
his  hand  he  found  that  it  was  only  part  of  the  binding  of 
Athena's  skirt  ripped  off  in  the  fall. 

"I  must  get  away  from  here  at  once,"  he  muttered.  ''In 
a  few  moments  they  may  be  lighting  up  and  come  to  look 
for  us.  It  is  lucky  that  we  are  in  a  land  where  everything 
seems  to  fail  the  natives  in  emergencies.  What  a  wretched 
old  tub.  I  wonder  whatever  induced  them  to  take  it." 

He  was  entirely  calm  and  swam  along  easily.  The  tide, 
he  knew,  was  helping  him,  for,  as  he  turned  to  swim  back- 
ward to  the  point  where  he  thought  that  the  boat  ought  to 
be,  it  was  hard  for  him  to  stem  it  with  his  burden. 

' '  Yes,  the  boat  was  gone ;  the  tide  is  carrying  it  away  and 


IN  THE  MARMORA  143 

it  has  such  a  good  start  of  me  that  I  will  never  be  able  to 
overtake  it,  unless  she,  too,  can  swim,  and  even  then  we 
might  pass  within  a  few  feet  of  it  and  never  know  in  this 
blackness. ' ' 

Anxiously  he  scanned  the  water  about  him. 

' '  Yes,  there  is  a  light  ahead  and  it  must  be  on  the  island, ' ' 
thought  he.  "I  can  make  it.  if,  when  she  comes  to,  she  does 
not  become  hysterical." 

He  made  no  effort  to  revive  her,  knowing  that  her  uncon- 
sciousness was,  for  the  moment,  of  great  assistance  to  him. 
There  was  one  thing  that  he  wanted  to  do — to  take  off  her 
shoes  and  skirt  so  as  to  reduce  her  weight,  and  especially  her 
skirt,  as  it  was  continually  twisting  itself  up  in  his  feet. 
But  to  do  this,  even  justified  by  the  peril  of  the  hour, 
shocked  him  in  the  very  thought.  The  heavy  woolen  jacket 
she  wore,  however,  he  slipped  off  from  her  shoulders.  As 
he  did  so,  she  breathed  heavily  and  then  he  felt  her  arms 
closing  about  his  neck. 

"Please  don't.  Please  don't,"  he  pleaded,  "or  we  may 
both  be  lost." 

He  pinioned  her  arms,  one  arm  down  between  his  body 
and  hers,  and  then,  reaching  his  arms  about  her,  took  the 
other  and  made  the  stroke  to  keep  their  balance  while  he 
treaded  hard  against  the  water. 

"Can  you  swim?"  he  asked. 

She  screamed  until,  with  the  movement  of  her  head,  the 
salt  water  choked  away  all  utterances  save  an  hysteria  of 
coughing. 

"Don't  you  remember  me?"  he  asked,  still  treading  in 
the  water  and  making  the  stroke  with  her  hands  imprisoned 
in  his  own. 

She  could  not  answer. 

"Don't  you  remember  me?  I  am  O'Rourke  who  told  you 
on  the  Acropolis  how  he  loved  your  father  and  who  is  going 
now  with  you  to  save  him,"  he  said. 

The  salt  water  which  she  had  swallowed  as  she  screamed 
seemed  to  make  her  brain  clearer  when  she  had  freed  her- 
self from  it.  and  finally  she  asked  quite  calmly: 

"You  will  not  let  me  drown,  will  you?" 

"No,  not  if  you  do  as  I  tell  you." 

"I  will,"  she  said,  relaxing  her  body.  "I  will,  for  I  must 
be  saved  to  look  for  my  father." 

"Then,"  he  commanded,  "lay  your  hand  lightly  on  my 


144  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

shoulder,  and  grip  your  fingers  in  my  collar.  That's  the 
way,"  he  added,  after  a  moment,  when  she  had  done  as  he 
had  asked.  "No,  not  quite  so  hard.  Close  your  mouth, 
breath  easily  and  hold  up  your  head,  looking  always  at  the 
light.  That  is  the  shore  there  and  not  so  very  far  off." 

"How  far?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  two  or  three  miles.  But  the  water  is  warm  and  the 
surface  splendid  for  swimming.  You  will  help  me  make  it, 
won't  you?" 

"I  will,"  she  answered  resolutely  and  with  revived 
strength  in  her  voice. 

For  some  minutes  she  listened  to  the  splash  of  his  stroke 
and  was  glad  when  he  asked : 

"We  are  wearing  too  many  clothes.  It  will  be  prudent  to 
get  down  to  a  bathing  costume  if  possible,  for  the  tide  here 
I  feel  is  making  a  current  away  from  the  shore  and  down 
toward  the  Bosporus." 

"Is  there  danger?" 

"Not  if  we  are  careful.  Can  you  take  off  your  shoes 
and — ,  well,  what  other  clothes  you  don't  actually  need." 

"I — ,  I  am  afraid  I  can't,"  she  faltered. 

"Then  allow  me,"  he  returned  and  treading  in  the  water, 
he  held  her  upright. 

"Ah,  it  is  fortunate  that  the  shoes  have  buttons  instead 
of  laces, ' '  he  remarked,  as  he  stripped  down  one  and  then 
the  other.  "And  now  you  really  won't  need  the  skirt.  It 
is  as  heavy  as  a  sheet  anchor." 

One  by  one  he  felt  for  her  heavier  garments,  she  resting 
in  his  arms  and  moving  from  side  to  side  like  a  little  child 
in  the  hands  of  its  nurse. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  as  she  formally  helped  him  with 
the  unhooking  of  her  stays.  "See,  now  you  will  be  more 
comfortable  and  are  so  light  that  you  can  hang  on  with  one 
hand.  We  ought  to  make  it  in  an  hour  perhaps  or  in  a 
couple  of  hours  at  most." 

"In  a  couple  of  hours!"  she  exclaimed.  "Can  you  hold 
out  that  long?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered  resolutely.  "For  you  are  no  bur- 
den to  me  now.  Hold  tight,  for  I  am  going  to  take  the 
man-of-war  stroke  which  will  carry  us  ahead  in  double  time, ' ' 
and  when  he  felt  her  grip  tightened  to  him,  half  submerging 
his  face  from  time  to  time  in  the  water  to  overcome  the  re- 
sistance and  obtain  better  balance,  he  plunged  forward  with 
light,  easy,  powerful  strokes. 


THE  CAIQUE  145 

She  felt  quite  calm  now.  .  .  .  She  no  longer  had  any  fear 
of  their  rescue.  With  such  a  man  as  O'Rourke,  she  was  sat- 
isfied that  it  would  be  only  a  question  of  a  short  time  be- 
fore they  would  be  both  saved  and  start  out  a  successful  hunt 
for  her  father.  In  her  heart  she  thanked  God  for  having 
sent  O'Rourke,  and  at  that  time — that  awful  hour  when  she 
was  almost  beside  herself  with  grief  amid  those  terrible  sick- 
ening scenes  after  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  her  father. 

"See,  we  are  coming  in  much  more  quickly  now,"  calmly 
remarked  O'Rourke  as  he  changed  his  stroke.  "Now  there 
are  two  lights  when  before  we  only  saw  one." 

"Oh,  what  a  pity  that  I  cannot  swim,"  deplored  Athena. 
"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  to  help  you?" 

O'Rourke  did  not  answer,  but  slackened  his  stroke,  and, 
as  she  floated  up  over  him,  she  heard  him  trying  to  sup- 
press a  groan.  Then  she  felt  her  face  plunging  deep  down 
into  the  water,  her  nose  stinging,  her  ears  ringing  with  the 
plunge,  and  the  blackness  of  suffocation  mantling  over  her. 

She  was  sure  that  she  was  drowning  and  that  O'Rourke 
was  drowning  with  her. 


"Lie  on  your  back — lie  on  your  back,"  commanded 
O'Rourke,  spinning  her  around  in  his  arms.  "It's  just  a 
cramp,  but  these  salt  water  cramps  are  bad  when  they  do 
come.  Just  rest  for  a  moment  and  I  am  sure  that  I  will 
be  over  it  in  a  moment." 

Quietly  she  obeyed  and  felt  herself  floating  over  him.  Her 
hair  spreading  out  over  his  face  distressed  her  and  she  felt 
guilty  in  its  possession,  thinking  that  it  disturbed  him.  For 
a  moment  they  rested  in  silence. 

"Listen!"  he  suddenly  exclaimed.  "Be  perfectly  still. 
Listen!"  and  he  held  her  rigidly  over  him. 

Through  the  silence,  over  the  unruffled  water  they  heard 
the  lap-lap  of  some  object  floating  on  the  water. 

"Ah,"  joyously  exclaimed  O'Rourke.  "It  is  the  boat.  It 
is  the  boat — my  caique — and  now  we  are  verily  saved." 


146  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

They  still  listened  and  then,  resuming  his  over-hand 
stroke,  they  shot  through  the  water  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound,  finally  coming  to  a  dim  outline  that  shut  out  the 
lights  from  the  shore. 

"Thank  God!"  exclaimed  O'Rourke.  "It  is  my  caique. 
And  how  providential!  If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  cramp 
and  the  rest  I  was  taking,  in  the  noise  of  my  strokes,  I  would 
never  have  heard  it." 

Asking  her  to  steady  herself  on  the  gunwale,  he  carefully 
pulled  himself  aboard  and  then  brought  her  safely  in. 

He  took  the  clothes  which  he  found  as  he  had  left  them 
and,  turning  his  back  to  her  white  dripping  form,  said : 

"Wrap  yourself  with  this  coat  and  blanket  while  I  con- 
sider what  should  be  done.  Be  careful  to  keep  your  bal- 
ance, for  these  caiques  are  very  treacherous." 

He  heard  her  obeying  him  and  it  was  almost  in  a  new 
voice  that  she  asked  anxiously : 

"And  you — will  you  not  catch  your  death  of  cold  in  those 
wet  clothes?" 

He  laughed. 

"No.  I  am  too  tough  for  that,  and  beside,  although  the 
climate  of  Constantinople  is  very  changeable,  the  salt  Sea 
of  Marmora  is  nearly  constant  in  the  temperature  of  its 
water,  and  if  I  should  feel  cold,  why,  I  will  simply  go  over 
and  warm  up  in  the  water." 

"When  shall  we  look  for  my  father?" 

' '  That  is  just  what  I  was  thinking.  I  believe  that  it  would 
be  best  if  we  go  right  on  to  Constantinople,  where  I  can 
leave  you  in  comfort  and  safety  and  then  with  a  steamer 
under  police  authority  I  will  be  back  early  in  the  morning 
to  find  him." 

"You  know  best,"  she  responded  simply. 

"I  know  these  waters  fairly  well.  As  soon  as  we  get  be- 
yond that  point  of  the  island  we  shall  see  Constantinople. 
The  wind  is  in  the  right  direction  for  a  very  quick  return." 

He  set  the  sail  and  in  a  few  moments  they  were  scuddling 
on  with  the  shore  lights  to  guide  them. 

"I  know  a  landing  just  beyond  the  Seraglio.  We  will  go 
ashore  there.  There's  a  cab  stand  not  far  away,  and  none 
of  the  custom  officers  to  trouble.  Please  feel  in  my  pocket 
and  see  if  any  money  is  still  there." 

She  felt  and  as  he  heard  the  coins  clinking,  he  said  in  a 
relieved  tone : 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  WARD  147 

"Well  and  good.  With  money  one  can  do  almost  anything 
in  Turkey." 

The  lights  of  Constantinople  came  nearer  and  the  sky 
above  clearing,  the  stars  shone  out  and  in  their  light  Athena 
could  see  the  rugged,  handsome  profile  of  her  companion  as, 
busy  with  sail  and  tiller,  he  drove  the  light  craft  forward. 

Some  strange  impulse  seemed  to  possess  her  from  the  re- 
action of  her  emotion  which  had  now  set  in,  and  sliding  over 
into  the  seat  where  he  was,  she  put  her  hand  out  caressingly 
and  pityingly  upon  his  wet  hair.  Then  suddenly  she  threw 
herself  upon  his  shoulder  and  sobbed  out  like  a  child. 


XV 
WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  WARD 

It  did  not  take  O'Rourke  long  to  organize  his  searching 
party,  and  in  a  special  steamer — the  largest  he  could  obtain — 
with  the  prefect  of  police  and  a  platoon  of  soldiers,  hardly 
had  dawn  broken  before  they  arrived  alongside  the  little 
quarantined  steamer.  The  dragoman  and  the  captain  both 
vigorously  protested  their  innocence. 

Small  boats  were  put  out  in  all  directions  to  scour  every 
cove  of  the  Isles  of  the  Princes,  and  the  Asiatic  shore  line. 
O'Rourke  was  hopeful  that  by  the  noon  hour  he  would  have 
some  comforting  news  of  success  to  send  back  to  Athena, 
whom  he  had  left  comfortably  quartered  in  her  apartments 
in  the  hotel  under  the  immediate  care  of  the  women  of  the 
American  embassy.  But  the  hours  dragged  along  and  one 
boat  after  another  returned  with  no  news  of  the  old  man. 

The  prefect  took  great  interest  in  the  case,  but  Turk-like, 
smiled  resignedly  when,  after  they  had  combed  the  sea  and 
dragged  and  scoured  about  for  hours,  he  said  to  O'Rourke: 

"Ah!  It  is  the  will  of  Allah.  He  must  be  out  in  the  deep 
sea.  There  is  no  hope  to  find  him — no  hope. ' ' 

O'Rourke  turned  on  him  fiercely. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  would  give  up  the  search 
when  it  is  only  just  begun?" 

"Ah,  well,"  responded  the  official.  "It  is  fate.  Both  the 
Captain  and  the  Dragoman  are,  I  am  convinced,  innocent, 
It  is  simply,  in  my  opinion,  a  case  of  robbery.  A  couple  of 

10 


148  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

these  hoodlum  passengers,  in  order  to  escape  the  danger  of 
cholera  and  the  quarantine,  probably  slipped  into  the  boat 
while  it  was  being  prepared  for  the  old  man  and  his 
daughter,  and  in  order  to  gain  possession  of  it,  knocked  him 
in  the  head,  robbed  him  of  his  money  and  then  threw  him 
overboard,"  and  carried  on  by  his  own  recital,  he  gestured 
with  his  hands  as  if  throwing  something  into  the  sea,  con- 
tinuing the  gestures  even  after  he  had  finished  speaking. 

"But  the  boat — where  is  that?    Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
you  will  give  up  the  search  without  having  found  the  boat  ? ' ' 
"Oh,  you  know  what  a  boat  is.     A  touch  of  tinder  and 
its  pitchy  sides  go  up  in  flames,  or  a  few  shovelfuls  of  sand 
and  it  is  buried.     Why  search  for  it?" 
O'Rourke  looked  at  him  scornfully. 

"Well,"  remarked  the  official.     "What  do  you  think  can 
still  be  done?" 

"Have  you  thoroughly  published  the  fact  of  the  reward 
which  will  be  paid  for  any  information?" 

"Ah,  yes.  But  in  Turkey  to  offer  such  a  large  reward 
as  you  propose  would  only  excite  suspicion  among  these  ig- 
norant people.  They  would  think  that  it  was  some  trap  laid 
for  them.  If  I  were  in  your  place  I  would  quietly  wait  for 
a  few  days  and  then  we  can  come  out  and  shoot  off  the  can- 
non; that,  I  am  sure,  will  bring  the  body  to  the  surface." 
"But  what  will  you  do  to  bring  the  guilty  ones  to  justice?" 
"Well,  what  can  be  done?  There  is  no  list  of  the  pas- 
sengers. Anybody  who  could  pay  the  fare  came  aboard. 
The  skipper  does  not  even  know  the  exact  number  of  those 
he  took  on." 

O'Rourke  reflected,  and  then  questioned: 
"Will  you  not  have  your  secretary  take  a  deposition  from 
each  of  the  passengers  aboard  the  Modania  steamer?" 
"Certainly,  if  you  think  that  it  will  do  any  good." 
O'Rourke  himself  stood  by  as  one  after  another  of  the 
passengers  came  forward,    anxiously    scanning    their    faces, 
and  listening  to  the  half  dozen  strange  tongues  used  by  the 
interpreters.     He,  himself,  caused  questions  to  be  put  to  es- 
tablish the   identity  of  them   all   while   the   futility   of  the 
search  slowly  dawned  upon  him  in  spite  of  all  his  sanguine 
and  stout-hearted  hope.     Many  new    cases    of    cholera    had 
broken  out  and  he  arranged  to  have  the  sick  cared  for  in 
comfortable  improvised  hospital  tents  set  up  on  the  nearest 
point  of  the  shore.     He,  himself,  got  out  a  naphtha  launch 
and  searched  the  whole  shore  length  beneath  Mt.  Bourgoulou. 


WHEN  THIEVES  PRAY  149 

The  day  seemed  to  him  at  times  interminably  long;  yet 
the  sun  was  sinking  before  he  knew  it.  And  as  he  looked 
and  saw  the  glory  of  the  sky  gilding  the  distant  minarets 
and  domes  and  painting  the  shore  with  the  beauty  of  the 
setting  sun,  a  deep  sadness  seized  him  and  he  reflected. 

"Ah!  What  a  mysterious  end  to  a  noble  life — to  pass  out 
here  in  this  strange  un-Christian  land  without  even  a  prayer 
or  a  comforting  word.  ..." 

And  his  heart  grew  sad  and  heavy  as  he  thought  of 
Athena— of  the  daughter  waiting — waiting  for  the  father 
who,  perchance,  would  never  more  return. 


XVI 
WHEN  THIEVES  PRAY 

Two  Arabs  sat  bathing  their  feet,  arms  and  faces  in  the 
pool  outside  the  Mosque  Saint  Sophia,  amid  the  crowd  of 
other  Mussulmans  performing  their  ablutions  for  worship  in 
the  great  Temple.  Neither  spoke  to  the  other,  yet  it  was 
clear  that  they  were  companions,  for  they  measured  the 
time  of  their  bathing,  and  lingered  while  others  came  and 
went.  .  .  . 

One  of  them  cast  his  face  upward,  and  in  the  single  glance 
of  the  face  as  he  gazed  towards  the  mass  of  the  Temple's 
dome  and  still  higher  to  where  the  marble  shafts  shot  high 
up  into  the  heavens,  he  showed  features  stolidly  brutal,  with 
a  sneering  set  curve  to  the  lips.  The  other  watched  his  re- 
flection in  the  water  before  him,  but  did  not  look  upward, 
until  as  he  bent  forward  from  beneath  his  tunic  of  camel's 
hair,  came  a  metallic  clink — the  musical  resonance  of  which 
is  the  quality  alone  of  the  most  precious  of  all  metals.  .  .  . 
Looking  into  the  water,  under  the  pretence  of  still  bathing 
his  face,  the  first  worshiper  pressed  his  lips  in  a  sign  of 
warning,  glancing  with  a  sinister  expression  sidewise.  And 
then,  as  they  both  stood  upward,  each  turning  his  back 
towards  the  other,  the  jingle  of  the  metal  was  no  longer 
heard. 

They  separated,  .  .  .  one  going  one  way,  the  other 
another.  They  entered  the  mosque  by  different  doorways, 
shuffling  off  their  worn  and  soiled  sandals.  Their  bare  feet 


150  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

tracked  over  the  carpet  at  different  angles,  but  which  re- 
united them  before  the  holy  altar  of  the  Mihrab.  Here  they 
commenced  their  prayers,  prostrating  themselves,  salaaming, 
striking  their  foreheads  on  the  ground,  muttering  their  sup- 
plications in  the  fanaticism  of  their  firm  and  strong  belief. 

One  of  them  became  so  devout  and  abstracted  in  his 
orisons  as  to  throw  himself  forward  with  such  force  that 
again  from  within  his  coarse  tunic  came  the  music  of  the 
tinkling  gold,  which  called  forth  from  the  other  a  sudden 
outspread  gesture  of  the  fingers,  a  gesture  in  protest  and 
warning,  as  he,  too,  threw  himself  forward,  but  cautiously, 
in  continuation  of  the  worship. 

Bach,  under  his  soiled,  muslin  turban,  glanced  about  back- 
ward, and  sidewise,  to  see  if  anyone  had  heard,  and  when 
they  saw  they  were  quite  alone  they  moved  even  closer  in  their 
prayers  towards  the  Mihrab,  until  they  were  finally  head  by 
head  together. 

"Be  careful,  brother,"  whispered  the  older,  still  continu- 
ing his  worship.  "Be  careful,  for  the  whole  world  knows 
the  sound  of  gold,  and  knows  that  such  as  we  never  possess 
it,  even  by  Allah's  just  allotment." 

"My  pouch  is  large,"  muttered  the  other.  "Hast  thou 
not  a  cloth  that  I  may  smother  the  sound?" 

The  other  arose,  and  with  abstracted  face  and  closed  eyes, 
praying  even  more  fervently  for  the  moment,  threw  himself 
down  prostrate,  at  the  same  time  thrusting  the  ragged  end 
of  a  torn  turban  over  to  his  fellow  worshiper. 

"Take  it,  and  silence  the  treacherous  sound,"  came  with 
his  bated  breath.  "It  is  all  that  we  have  to  fear.  No  one 
else  knows.  The  glib  song  of  this  gold  alone  can  betray 
us.  ...  And  then  it  is  foreign  gold,  with  the  sign  of  the 
eagle  upon  it." 

' '  But  we  shall  have  to  spend  a  piece, ' '  responded  the  other, 
"for  verily  we  have  fasted  long,  and  I  am  empty  with 
hunger. ' ' 

"Not  until  we  are  on  the  road  to  Anah,  shall  we  know 
aught  of  food,"  responded  the  other.  "Go  thou  thy  way 
and  I  will  go  mine,  and  there,  beyond,  in  the  bazaar,  I  know 
a  brother  who  has  a  camel,  old  and  infirm,  but  which  will 
serve  our  purpose." 

"But  if  I  should  be  taken — I,  who  know  not  the  ways  of 
this  great  city,  what  shall  then  happen?" 

"Death  shall  come  to  thee,  for  thy  gold  shall  betray  thee. " 


WHEN  THIEVES  PRAY  151 

"But  thou  who  hast  been  a  father  to  me,"  pleaded  the 
other,  greatly  disturbed  by  the  warning  given  by  the 
stronger  and  older  one.  "Why  must  thou  leave  me  now? 
Verily,  as  thou  sayest,  the  gold  will  betray  us,  thee  as  well 
as  me.  Wherefore  let  us  then  not  separate,  for  together  we 
shall  have  strength  and  cunning  to  find  our  safety  before 
they  may  know.  For  how  otherwise,  if  captured,  can  we 
explain  the  possession  of  this  large  wealth  of  foreign  gold 
except  that  each  shall  protect  the  other  by  swearing  that 
we  found  it  by  the  wayside." 

A  cunning  look  came  into  the  eyes  of  the  older. 

"Yes,  thou  speakest  true,"  he  returned.  "But  having 
found  it  by  the  wayside,  how  can  we  explain  that  we  have 
divided  it  to  the  moiety.  Do  two  men  together  find  and  carry 
each  a  single  pouch  of  gold  ? ' ' 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Only  that  if  we  should  be  taken,  that  both  having  gold 
will  be  questioned.  And  from  the  two  stories  will  contra- 
dictions come  which  verily  will  show  our  guilt,  whereas  if 
one  alone  has  the  gold,  alone  upon  him  will  fall  the  fury 
of  the  law  and  at  least  one  of  us  will  be  safe." 

The  words  had  the  desired  effect  upon  the  younger. 

"Who  shall  then  take  the  gold?"  he  anxiously  asked. 

"Thou,  of  course,"  responded  the  other,  prostrating  him- 
self deeply,  so  that  the  cunning  expression  on  his  face  would 
not  betray  his  craftiness.  "Thou,  verily  being  the  younger, 
can  better  endure  the  torture  than  I,  upon  whom  already 
the  sun  is  shining  from  the  west. ' ' 

"But  thou  speakest  the  language  of  our  rulers,"  pro- 
tested the  other.  "Verily  it  were  better  that  thou  takest 
the  foreign  gold,  and  then  we  shall  still  go  on  together,  and 
when  we  have  come  to  a  secret  place  far  beyond  the  walls, 
then  again  I  shall  retake  my  half  of  what  Allah  has  given 
us  from  the  wealth  of  the  Christian  dog.  And  with  it  our 
tribes  will  grow  great." 

The  other  continued  silently  in  prayer,  until  after  a  long 
and  final  prostration,  with  his  face  sidewise  on  the  floor,  he 
whispered : 

"  'Tis  Allah's  will  and  I  consent.  Give  me  the  gold,  even 
though  blood  shall  be  upon  me." 

The  other  slipped  the  clinking  pouch  over  to  him.  It 
quickly  disappeared  in  the  folds  of  his  burnous. 

He  sighed  languidly  and  resignedly;  then  again  repeated: 


152  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Yea,  'tis  the  will  of  Allah,  and  should  I  be  taken,  verily 
say  that  the  gold  was  found  by  the  wayside  e'en  though 
they  may  know  that  it  is  more  than  all  thy  tribe  and  all 
my  tribe  could  have  put  aside  in  a  generation." 

The  younger  of  the  two  appeared  to  be  more  buoyant  as 
he  arose  unburdened  from  his  share  of  the  spoil. 

"Follow  but  do  not  speak,"  commanded  the  other  as  he 
arose  and  stalked  down  through  the  Mosque. 

The  admonition  was  hardly  necessary,  for  the  younger, 
during  the  short  period  that  he  had  been  possessed  of  the 
gold  had  undergone  the  most  tantalizing  misery  of  his  life. 
He  was  mute  with  relief. 

As  the  older  disappeared  for  a  moment  in  the  gateway  of 
the  Mosque,  a  slight  suspicion  flashed  through  his  mind — a 
suspicion,  however,  which  quickly  vanished,  for  he  saw  that 
he  was  waiting  beyond. 

"Verily  he  is  honest,"  he  reflected,  "for  if  he  would  rob 
me  of  the  plunder,  why  should  he  have  ever  forsooth 
given  it  to  me  in  the  first  place?" 

So  confident  and  happy  in  the  new  relation  of  things,  he 
shuffled  down  and  over  the  Place  of  Saint  Sophia  and  fell 
to  wondering  in  his  wild  fashion  of  the  desert,  at  the  un- 
necessary bigness  and  greatness  of  the  buildings  about  him, 
glancing  back  spellbound  at  the  mass  of  the  enormous 
mosque  and  the  shafts  of  its  minarets. 

A  hoarse  cry  of  "Guarda,  Guarda,"  from  a  voice  com- 
ing beneath  a  quarter  ton  load  of  wares,  strapped  upon  the 
almost  double  bent  back  of  a  street  carrier,  caused  him  to 
hesitate  a  moment.  Then  he  followed  on  with  a  smile  upon 
his  face,  reflecting  that  with  all  his  gold  he  would  never 
have  to  labor  in  that  body  racking  fashion.  He  glanced 
curiously  at  the  obelisk  and  then  the  pillar  of  Hercules  ex- 
cited his  wonder;  until  a  tramway,  rattling  down  the  street 
held  him  riveted  to  the  spot,  for  it  was  his  first  visit  to  a  city. 

But  with  all  this  distraction,  he  kept  a  close  eye  upon 
his  companion,  who,  in  his  soiled  white  burnous  stalked  on 
down  past  the  "Burnt  Column." 

With  every  step  his  confidence  increased — that  wild,  in- 
dependent confidence  of  the  Bedouin — a  confidence  which, 
when  once  obtained,  is  as  unchanging  as  the  belief  in  the 
rising  of  the  sun.  More  and  more  he  allowed  himself  to 
become  interested  in  the  strange  new  sights  about  him,  won- 
dering why  they  boxed  up  the  saplings  by  the  sides 


WHEN  THIEVES  PRAY  153 

of  the  streets,  laughing  contemptuously  at  the  "Burnt 
Column,"  and  reflecting  upon  the  folly  of  building  up  such 
high  monuments  when  sometime  they  would  verily  by  the 
will  of  Allah  fall  to  pieces.  Passing  a  native  restaurant 
he  listened,  with  watering  mouth,  to  the  sputter  of  the 
grease,  frying  honeyed  fritters  into  a  rich  appetizing  brown, 
but  an  angry,  inquiring  look  from  the  cook  soon  sent  him 
on  his  way. 

He  came  to  a  wonderful  little  building,  quite  isolated  by 
itself,  from  the  shade  of  whose  leaden  roof  rose  up  the  airy 
outline  of  minareted  domes. 

The  shade  was  pleasing  to  him,  and  the  varied  colored 
mosaic  of  shining  marble  gratified  his  barbarian  eye.  But 
more  than  all  this,  it  was  the  gurgle  of  the  water  from  the 
fountain  which  drew  his  attention. 

"If  I  cannot  eat,  I,  at  all  events,  can  drink,"  thought  he, 
and  again  and  again  he  slaked  his  thirst  from  the  clear 
water  pouring  into  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 

He  had  lingered  longer  than  he  should  and  hurrying  back 
into  the  street  was  glad  to  see  that  his  confidence  had  not 
been  abused,  but  that  the  other  was  in  the  street  waiting 
for  him  to  come  up. 

"Verily,"  muttered  the  leader,  when  the  two  had  drawn 
aside  in  a  corner  unobserved.  "Verily,  our  hunger  is  great, 
and  I,  too,  am  weary  and  faint.  Yonder  is  a  money  changer, 
one  of  those  whom  they  call  Jews.  With  him  would  I  fain 
change  one  of  the  pieces.  Wait  thou  then  here,  and  I  will 
come  soon  again,  for  the  gold  is  not  of  this  realm,  and  it 
would  be  our  undoing  to  show  even  one  of  the  pieces  in  the 
Bazar." 

The  Bedouin  nodded  his  approval,  his  lips  smacking  at  the 
thought  of  appeasing  his  hunger.  He  waited  patiently,  still 
engrossed  in  the  sights  about  him.  He  waited  until  the  sun 
had  thrown  the  shadow  of  the  "Burnt  Column"  already  into 
the  first  hour  of  afternoon.  Still  he  waited,  restraining  his 
suspicion.  Then  his  hunger  finally  commenced  to  make  him 
irritable,  and  returning  to  the  fountain,  but  with  his  eyes 
ever  fixed  upon  the  rendez-vous  which  he  had  left,  he  again 
slaked  his  thirst.  He  looked  at  the  shadow  of  the  column 
again  impatiently.  Finally  his  hunger  broke  away  his  self- 
restraint,  he  became  more  irritated,  and  from  famishing  ex- 
asperation came  suspicion.  Still  he  waited,  vainly  hoping. 

"The  knave,"  thought  he.     "Can  it  be  that  he  has  de- 


154  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

ceived  me.  Would  that  I  could  speak  the  language  of  the 
Jew  and  I  would  go  and  ask  to  seek  him  out." 

He  reflected  for  a  moment. 

"Verily  the  Jew,  as  a  money  changer,  is  rich,  and  being 
rich,  will  know  all  things  and  all  languages.  Therefore,  per- 
chance, he  may  know  my  tongue." 

So,  reflecting,  he  made  his  way  to  the  money  changer's 
booth. 

"Speak  ye  Arabic?" 

The  Jew  nodded  his  head,  answering  in  Arabic: 

"What  wantest  thou?" 

"Did  one  such  as  I  come  to  change  some  strange  gold?" 

The  Jew  shook  his  head. 

"He  did  not  come?" 

The  Jew  gestured  another  negation  and  then  turned  to  busy 
himself  with  his  accounts. 

"Then  I  have  been  betrayed.  I  have  been  robbed,"  cried 
the  Bedouin  fiercely,  making  his  midst  eloquent  with  vocifera- 
tion and  crowded  with  large  gesticulation.  Then  he  dashed 
bewilderedly  out  into  the  street  to  vainly  search  for  his  de- 
ceiver. 

On  and  on  he  ran.  One  patrol  after  another  tried  to  seize 
him  but  he  eluded  their  grasp;  until  finally,  one  of  them 
brought  him  down  with  a  crack  of  a  sabre's  flat  edge  full 
over  his  turban. 

The  Bedouin  got  up,  crying  out  fiercely: 

"He  has  betrayed  me  and  I  will  betray  him!  Yes!  I 
will  tell  all !  He  throttled  the  rich  stranger  and  robbed  him. 
of  his  gold,  and  now  he  has  betrayed  me." 

The  others  of  the  patrol  came  up  and  seized  him.  They 
were  leading  him  away  when  one  of  them  said: 

"Thou  liest,  crazed  one,  for  if  it  be  true,  thou  wouldst 
take  us  to  where  the  man  is  throttled." 

' '  I  will !  I  will ! ' '  vehemently  cried  the  Bedouin,  and  with 
a  cat-like  instinct,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  city,  he  led  them 
on  back  past  the  "Burnt  Column,"  the  "Mosque  of  Saint 
Sophia,"  the  "Column  of  Hercules,"  and  then  down  the 
coast  side  which  looked  out  over  towards  Mt.  Bourgoulou  and 
the  Isles  of  the  Princes. 

On  and  on  he  strode  with  his  wide  desert  stride,  while  his 
captors  bated  their  breath  and  followed  through  the  noisome 
side  streets  where  he  led  the  way. 

Finally  he  stood  and  pointed  downward  towards  an  ancient 


"TO  GET  MARRIED  ON"  155 

ruined  fortification  built  out  into  the  water,  within  whose 
floorless  enclosure  the  tide  water  ebbed  and  flowed.  It  would 
have  made  a  splendid  little  port  for  fishing  boats  had  it 
been  only  a  little  larger  and  had  not  the  flow  of  the  tide 
almost  entirely  closed  up  the  sunken  gateway  which  opened 
to  the  sea. 

"There!"  shouted  the  Bedouin.  "There!  There  is  the 
betrayer's  victim,"  and  looking  downward  they  saw  a  caique 
bumping  lightly  against  the  stone  walls  and  upon  its  bot- 
tom lay  the  long  grey-clad  form  of  a  tall  man,  his  arms 
folded  up  under  his  head,  and  his  grey  hair  blown  lightly 
by  the  breeze. 


XVII 
"TO  GET  MARRIED  ON" 

"If  it  hadn 't  been  for  those  thieves  falling  out,  how  might 
I  not  have  fared?"  smiled  Ward,  as  propped  up  on  his  pil- 
lows, he  sipped  the  broth  the  nurse  gave  him  the  second 
morning  after  his  rescue,  and  gave  O'Rourke  and  Athena 
the  first  narrative  of  his  adventure.  "You  see,"  he  ex- 
plained, "I  really  was  done  for  more  than  I  thought,  more 
nervous  than  anything  else,  I  guess,  and  when  the  tide  fell, 
if  I  had  been  carried  out  to  sea,  you  can  hardly  tell  what 
might  have  happened." 

"Oh,  father,"  murmured  Athena,  with  a  horrified  look,  as 
she  reached  forward  and  laid  her  hands  over  him  as  if  to 
assure  herself  that  he  really  were  safe. 

"Oh,  it  wasn't  so  bad  after  all,  daughter.  What  puzzles 
me,  though,  is  just  what  happened  to  me  when  I  dropped 
down  into  the  boat.  I  only  remember  that  I  strangled  and 
then  everything  was  black.  I  can  remember  nothing  more 
until  I  found  myself  alone  in  the  bottom  of  that  boat  with 
the  current  swishing  past,  but  held  fast  at  the  mouth  of  the 
wall.  I  called  but  the  water  made  a  good  deal  of  noise  and 
the  walls  were  high,  so  I  just  turned  over  from  weakness 
and  waited  until  some  one  should  come.  I  certainly  must 
have  been  well  on  toward  the  end  of  my  last  strength,  for 
I  slept  or  was  unconscious,  from  what  you  tell  me,  most  of 
that  day." 


156  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Oh,  father!  What  a  terrible  adventure,"  murmured 
Athena,  anticipating  the  nurse  in  taking  the  broth  bowl 
away. 

"Well,  daughter,"  smiled  the  old  man.  "Adventures  are 
all  right  if  they  end  well.  Why,"  he  continued  after  he 
had  drawn  his  napkin  over  his  lips,  "it's  a  part  of  every 
man's  nature  to  love  adventure." 

Athena  gave  a  protesting  pout. 

"Yes,"  continued  her  father,  looking  up  at  O'Rourke, 
"the  best  part  of  an  adventure  is  that  one  really  never 
knows  a  peril  until  it  is  past.  I  took  it  for  granted  yester- 
day that  there  was  no  danger  and  that  if  I  remained  quiet, 
you,  my  daughter,  would  send  someone  to  get  me,  for  my 
mind  was  too  confused  to  think  that  you  might  yourself,  in 
any  way,  have  gotten  into  danger,  for  the  whole  episode  of 
that  wretched  little  steamer  seemed  to  have  passed  out  of  my 
mind." 

The  old  man's  lips  touched  lightly  in  a  contented  smile 
as  he  stretched  out  under  the  covers  and  then  looked  up  at 
O'Rourke  and  his  daughter. 

"Pain  pretty  nearly  all  gone  now,"  he  mused.  "I  won- 
der if  they  let  those  fellows  go  as  I  requested." 

"I  told  the  Prefect  of  your  desire  to  have  them  released," 
remarked  O'Rourke. 

"Yes.  Why  not  let  them  go?  They  tell  me  that  they  said 
that  the  reason  they  assaulted  me  was  to  get  money  to  es- 
tablish a  family." 

"To  get  married  on?"  asked  Athena. 

"More  than  that,"  laconically  responded  her  father. 
"They  wanted  to  become  the  patriarchs  of  tribes  that  would 
live  on  forever.  That's  the  Oriental  idea  of  marriage;  the 
laying  of  a  strong  foundation,  upon  which  the  founders' 
descendants  with  each  generation  build  up  an  increasingly 
beautiful  superstructure.  Getting  married  is  a  mere  epi- 
sode— but  founding  a  family  is  starting  the  pendulum  of 
life  in  its  wide  everlasting  sweep  through  all  eternity." 

The  old  man  looked  long  at  both  of  them.  .  .  .  Then  he 
again  spoke,  but  more  slowly  the  sentiment  welled  up  from 
within  him. 

"As  the  machinery  of  law  and  government  grows  stronger 
— the  influence  of  the  family  grows  weaker — until  today 
with  us,  women  look  upon  marriage  sometimes  as  a  mere 
trade  occupation  and  men  regard  it  as  a  mere  convenience 


"TO  GET  MARRIED  ON"  157 

for  comfort.  They  get  married  now — but  they  don't  found 
families  as  they  used  to  in  America.  0,  how  I  would  love 
to  put  the  American  family  back  where  it  was  in  the  days 
of  my  youth,  when  there  were  few  spinsters,  fewer  bachelors 
and  no  divorces,  and  when  the  overwhelming  ambition  of 
man's  life  was  to  found  a  family." 

O'Rourke  really  did  not  follow  the  words  at  first  with  any 
particular  stress  of  thought.  Marriage?  Yes,  why  not  sub- 
jugate it  to  the  iron  clad  laws  of  the  perfected  machinery 
of  government?  Of  course  for  the  Chinese  such  obsession 
of  the  joy  of  family  founding  was  all  right — for  with  it  went 
ancestral  worship — and,  yes,  the  Hindu — he,  of  course, 
knew  no  completeness  of  earthly  joy  unless  he  had  a  son  to 
light  his  funeral  pyre;  but  in  America,  and  among  Amer- 
icans, why  not  let  the  family  be  a  mere  social  institution  to 
subserve  the  purpose  of  government  rather  than  the  inde- 
pendence of  its  own  existence?  There  was  something  of 
irony  in  O'Rourke 's  thought  as  his  mind  ran  on.  Yes, 
Americans  were  relegating  the  family  to  a  rather  obscure 
back  seat  in  the  temples  of  its  worship — but  why  not?  Yes, 
why  not?  Between  a  great  duty  to  perform  to  society  and 
a  great  duty  to  perform  to  its  smaller  part — the  mere  fam- 
ily— the  obligation  of  society  would  always  have  to  come 
first. 

And  O'Rourke  found  himself  smiling  at  the  old  man's 
reference  to  the  family  conditions  of  the  past.  Little  did 
he  then  dream  how  soon  the  revulsion  of  his  feeling  was 
to  become  and  how  poignant  would  be  his  own  desire  not 
merely  to  marry  but  to  found  a  family — to  attain  which  he 
would  be  prepared  to  make  any  sacrifice  of  ambition. 

Then  suddenly  O'Riourke  roused  himself  and  looked  from 
one  to  the  other.  His  lips  parted  as  if  he  had  something 
momentous  to  tell  them. 

''Speaking  of  marriages,"  he  remarked — ;  then  he  hesi- 
tated and  before  he  could  recommence  the  chief  hospital 
surgeon  came  up  and  after  salutations  the  old  man  asked 
anxiously : 

' '  You  are  not  going  to  keep  me  here  long,  are  you,  doctor  ? ' ' 

"Don't  see  any  reason  for  it,"  returned  he.  "You  have 
just  suffered  a  nervous  shock  from  strangulation.  With  a 
man  of  less  nervous  strength,  the  rough  handling  you  got 
might  have  proved  fatal,  but  now  in  a  few  days  you  will  be 
as  good  as  new." 


158  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

Athena  beamed. 

"Well,  then,  we  might  as  well  make  our  plans  to  leave. 
Where  is  Magnus?  Why  hasn't  he  showed  up  yet?"  said 
Ward. 

O'Rourke  hastened  to  make  some  evasive  reply.  He  had 
now  almost  forgotten  what  he  had  previously  intended  to 
say. 

"Oh,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  that  later  on." 

"But  the  yacht  and  the  food  relief  plan — he  should  ad- 
vise with  me.  By  all  means,  have  him  come  at  his  earliest 
convenience,  for  I  feel  quite  fit  now  for  any  sort  of  busi- 
ness," urged  Ward. 

But  O'Rourke  suddenly  became  so  involved  in  conversa- 
tion with  the  Doctor  that  he  did  not  seem  to  hear,  and,  wav- 
ing an  abrupt  farewell,  passed  off  down  the  corridor. 


A  few  days  later,  Ward  was  well  enough  to  be  taken  to 
the  hotel  and  it  was  all  that  O'Rourke  could  do  to  keep  him 
from  getting  the  chauffeur  to  drive  them  down  to  the  Golden 
Horn  to  visit  the  yacht. 

O'Rourke  puzzled  and  reflected  as  to  how  he  should  break 
the  news  that  Magnus,  as  O'Rourke  had  learned,  had  ab- 
sconded with  the  yacht  and  the  Food  Relief  funds  entrusted 
to  him  by  Ward.  It  seemed  to  O'Rourke  that  the  gross 
breach  of  confidence  would,  when  revealed,  come  as  an  un- 
necessary blow  to  Ward.  He  saw  no  good  reason  why  he 
should  pillory  Magnus  as  a  wicked,  unscrupulous  man  who 
would  descend  to  any  depth  of  evil  doing.  He  believed  that 
one  reason  for  Magnus'  disappearance  was  the  fact  that  he, 
O'Rourke,  had  returned  and  found  him  out.  He  knew  that 
even  the  ingeniously  wicked  mind  of  Magnus  could  find  no 
way  of  defending  himself  against  his  crimes  in  having  caused 
the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  Coste  and  himself,  and  the 
decoy  of  the  Duchess  and  her  daughter.  He  held  no  malice 
himself  against  Magnus,  for  his  own  lot  had  not  been  as 
hard  as  that  of  Coste,  whom  he  had  only  succeeded  in  re- 
leasing a  full  fortnight  after  he,  himself,  had  effected  his 


MAGNUS  AGAIN  159 

own  release.  But  how  to  explain  the  disappearance  of  the 
yacht  and  at  the  same  time  that  of  Magnus  was  to  him  a 
problem.  .  .  .  Yes,  and  more  than  that,  he  realized  every 
hour  that  the  longer  they  stayed  in  Constantinople  the 
more  difficult  it  might  be  to  return  to  Western  Europe  and 
then  home,  for  daily  the  rumors  of  war  were  becoming 
thicker,  and  once  that  war  was  declared,  a  flight  from 
Turkey  by  way  of  the  Mediterranean  would  be  well  nigh 
impossible.  Truly,  the  task  of  safely  conducting  his  bene- 
factor and  Athena  back  to  some  port  from  whence  they 
could  make  their  way  to  America  was  indeed  arduous. 

With  such  reflections  as  these,  he  was  pacing  up  and  down 
along  the  roadway  which  skirted  the  cemetery  in  front  of 
the  hotel,  when,  from  an  upper  window,  he  heard  the  voice 
of  Ward  calling  him. 

"O'Rourke — can  you  come  up?  I  have  a  message  I  want 
to  read  you." 

Wondering  what  it  could  mean,  O'Rourke  immediately 
went  up  to  the  apartment  where  Athena  and  her  father  sat 
at  a  writing  desk  examining  some  mail  which  they  had  just 
received. 

"Funny  that  they  did  not  send  such  an  important  mes- 
sage over  to    the    hospital,"    murmured   Ward,    passing   to 
O'Rourke  a  letter,  which  read: 
"My  dear  Mr.  Ward: 

"To  pen  what  I  would  say  to  you  in  person  would  be  a 
long  and  difficult  task.  Suffice  it  to  say,  if  you  please,  that 
your  yacht,  in  the  first  place,  has  been  commandeered  by 
the  Government  and  I,  myself,  am  compelled  to  return  to 
my  own  country.  Of  course  you  will  be  fully  reimbursed 
for  the  loss  of  your  yacht  and  I  will  make  it  my  pleasure 
to  represent  you  at  Vienna,  but  what  I  most  regret  is  that 
I  am  temporarily  to  be  deprived  of  the  honor  of  assisting 
you  in  your  philanthropic  movement  in  supplying  food  to 
the  refugees  and  that  the  funds  that  you  so  generously  ad- 
vanced me  for  that  purpose  will  be  temporarily  held  up  un- 
der the  contracts  which  I  have  already  made,  but  which,  of 
course,  now  will  have  to  remain  in  abeyance  for  the  time 
being. 

"This  is  all  that  I  can  write  to-day,  but  you  will  hear 
from  me  as  soon  as  it  is  permitted  me  to  again  address  you. 

"Yours  in  haste,  but  with  the  greatest  and  most  profound 
homage.  VON  STEIN  VRETT. 


160  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"P.  S. — I  understand  that  Mr.  O'Rourke  is  in  town. 
Please  give  him  my  compliments  and  ask  that  he  do  not 
judge  me  too  harshly  until  I  meet  him  and  explain. 

''VON  S.  V." 

''Well,  that's  a  pretty  how  do  you  do,"  remarked  "Ward, 
when  he  saw  that  O'Rourke  had  finished  the  reading  of  the 
letter.  "I  particularly  counted  on  Magnus.  I  don't  mind 
the  yacht  so  much,  for  I  was  beginning  to  think  that  it  would 
get  me  in  trouble  over  here  sooner  or  later,  and  I  would 
rather  have  the  trouble  happen  when  we  were  off  of  it  rather 
than  when  aboard." 

He  looked  inquiringly  at  O'Rourke,  but  as  O'Rourke  still 
remained  silent,  continued: 

"Seems  strange  that  he  didn't  call  at  the  hospital  to  take 
leave. ' ' 

"Why,  father,"  broke  in  Athena,  "don't  you  see  that  he 
must  have  been  arrested  when  they  took  the  yacht;  that  ex- 
plains it." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  returned  her  father  dubiously.  "But 
why  wasn't  this  message  delivered  to  me  before?  See,  it 
is  dated  the  very  day  we  were  returning  from  Broussa.  Yes, 
that  is  the  day,  for  he  mentions  Mr.  O'Rourke,  and  he  tells 
me  that  he  only  arrived  on  that  same  day." 

Athena  looked  inquiringly  at  O'Rourke,  who,  during  the 
brief  conversation,  had  reflected  deeply.  To  have  told  them 
what  a  scoundrel  Magnus  was  would  be  most  impolitic  and 
would  avail  nothing.  On  the  contrary,  it  might  prove  not 
only  embarrassing  to  him  in  his  plans  to  take  them  to  safety 
but  even  thwart  them.  .  .  .  He  felt  it  providential  that  Mag- 
nus had  had  the  yacht  fictitiously  commandeered  for  his  own 
private  purposes  and  that  he  had  embezzled  the  money  which 
Ward  had  given  him  for  the  Food  Supply  Relief.  He  was 
satisfied  that  neither  the  father  nor  the  daughter  knew  any- 
thing about  Magnus'  machinations;  of  how  he  had  tried  to 
control  a  throne,  and  failing,  had  wantonly  caused  distress 
to  those  whom  he  could  no  longer  use,  and  had  then  profited 
by  the  confidence  of  Ward  to  despoil  him  of  the  yacht  and 
the  funds  advanced  for  his  philanthropy.  His  lips  pressed 
firmly  as  he  reflected  upon  the  evil  doing  of  Magnus.  He  sat 
down,  still  slowly  fumbling  the  letter,  and  then  said,  meas- 
uring every  word: 

"There  are  times  when  it  is  hard  to  advise  anyone,  even 
to  the  extent  of  making  the  slightest  comment.  But  three 


THE  HOLY  WAR  161 

things  are  certain:  that  your  yacht  is  gone;  that  Magnus  is 
gone;  and  that  there  will  soon  be  war  in  Turkey." 

"War!"  exclaimed  Athena.     "War  in  this  country?" 

"Yes,"  responded  O'Rourke,  "and  perhaps  very  soon, 
and  if  war  does  surround  us  here  we  will  be  a  long  ways 
from  home." 

"What  do  you  think  that  we  had  better  do?"  asked  Ward. 

"Prepare  to  leave  Turkey  at  once,"  returned  O'Rourke. 

"What  is  the  best  way  to  get  out  of  this  confounded 
country?"  asked  Ward. 

"There  is  really  only  one  safe  way  now,  and  that  is 
straight  back  up  the  Danube  to  Budapest,  from  Rustchuk, 
for  I  understand  that  all  the  railroads  between  here  and 
there  are  used  exclusively  for  troop  mobilization,  and,"  .  .  . 
looking  at  Athena,  he  added: 

"It  will  prove  far  the  safer  and  more  comfortable  of  the 
two  routes  for  the  sea  way  is  now  dangerous  because  of  the 
mines.  Furthermore,  there  are  only  a  few  miserable  sailings 
and  they  far  between  and  uncertain  of  destination." 

"We  will  do  whatever  you  say,"  declared  Ward,  to  which 
Athena  nodded  her  head  approvingly,  forgetting  immediate- 
ly her  alarm  as  she  looked  up  into  his  strong  and  resolute 
face. 

"Then  let  us  prepare  to  leave  on  to-night's  boat  for 
Varna,"  said  O'Rourke. 

"Can  you  be  ready,  daughter?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  I  will  go  at  once  to  arrange  for  the  journey,"  said 
O'Rourke,  and  in  the  abruptness  of  the  decision,  all  three 
forgot  about  Magnus. 


XIX 

THE  HOLY  WAR 

"I  don't  understand  why  Turkey  wants  to  get  into  this 
great  conflict,"  remarked  Ward,  as  standing  between 
O'Rourke  and  Athena  they  watched  the  greyish  brown 
towers  of  the  Bosporus  as  they  steamed  out  for  the  Black 
Sea  to  make  the  port  of  Varna. 

"It  is  pretty  hard  to  give  a  reason  for  any  war,"  re- 


162  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

marked  O'Rourke.  "But  the  Empire  of  Turkey  was  created 
by  fighting  just  as  any  other  country,  and  now  they  realize 
that  it  is  only  by  fighting  that  they  can  hold  their  position 
as  a  link  bumper  between  the  great  forces  of  the  East  and 
the  West.  Look  down  there,"  he  exclaimed,  "there  per- 
haps you  may  see  a  reason  why  there  is  war, ' '  and  he  pointed 
toward  the  forecastle,  where,  in  the  steerage,  a  couple  of 
Turkish  soldiers  stood  talking  together. 

"Look,  they  are  both  members  of  the  Nizam,  or  regular 
army.  See,  the  older  one  of  the  two,  a  man  I  should  say 
nearly  fifty,  has  had  most  of  his  teeth  knocked  out;  his  face 
is  weather  beaten  and  scarred ;  he  wears  his  uniform  and 
cartridge  belt  in  a  slouchy,  careless  manner,  which  shows 
that  he  still  would  prefer  his  flowing  burnous  to  European 
dress.  You  see,  he  is  still  a  common  soldier  after  per- 
haps many  years  of  service,  but  yet  notice  with  what  defer- 
ence the  natty,  trim  young  sergeant  of  the  new  Turk  type  re- 
gards him.  And  why?  Simply  because  the  new  Turk  knows 
that  it  is  only  by  the  courage,  the  bravery  and  endurance 
of  the  old  style  Turk  that  they  can  ever  expect  to  hold  to- 
gether even  a  semblance  of  their  loosely  united  empire,  which 
of  itself  only  makes  up  a  part  of  the  Moslem  world — a  world 
which  it  is  very  hard  for  the  Christian  to  understand — 
for  when  the  whole  story  is  told,  instead  of  calling  the  Turk 
the  'Terrible  Turk/  he  may  be,  perhaps,  called  the  'For- 
giving Turk.'  ' 

"But  why  do  you  think  that  Turkey  will  join  hands  with 
Germany  and  Austria?"  asked  Ward. 

"Because  Germany  has  been  the  godfather  of  Turkey. 
Perhaps  had  it  not  been  for  Germany,  the  Turk,  as  the  sick 
man  of  the  East,  would  have  long  ago  been  laid  low  and  al- 
most forgotten.  But  Dr.  Germany  stepped  in,  resuscitated 
him,  showed  him  how  to  take  care  of  himself,  and  is  still 
his  adviser;  all,  of  course,  because  it  suits  Germany's  policy 
against  the  Slavs  so  to  do.  Turkey's  opponent  is  Russia, 
as  the  self-styled  protector  of  the  smaller  Slav  nations,  which 
have  grown  up  under  Russian  influence  out  of  the  dismem- 
bered parts  of  Turkey,  while  Germany  is  the  Mussulman's 
protector. ' ' 

"I  suppose  that  it  will  take  a  war  to  ultimately  establish 
the  political  status  of  the  Turkish  people." 

"Yes/'  confirmed  O'Rourke.  "And  sometimes  it  seems  to 
me  as  if  Turkey  would  eventually  prove  to  be  the  center 


THE  HOLY  WAR  163 

from  which  would  be  drawn  out  the  bloody  circle  of  the 
wars  of  this  century." 

Athena  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as  the  ship  finally  made  its 
way  past  the  line  of  forts. 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed.  "Now  we  are  safe  from  the  mines, 
are  we  not?" 

"Yes,"  reassured  O'Rourke.  "I  think  we  are,  ...  in 
this  direction.  It  is  only  a  short  run  over  to  Varna.  We 
will  be  there  by  dawn  tomorrow,  on  what  may  prove  to  be 
one  of  the  last  ship's  sailing  on  this  line  between  Constan- 
tinople and  Varna.  Varna  isn't  much  of  a  town,  although 
at  certain  times  of  the  year  it  is  quite  picturesque,  with  its 
prettily  painted  houses  looking  more  attractive  at  a  distance 
from  the  sea  than  from  an  actual  visit  through  its  untidy 
streets. ' ' 

A  wind  came  up  laden  with  mist,  and  the  passengers  were 
driven  down  into  the  cabin,  heavy  with  the  odor  of  Turkish 
tobacco.  O'Rourke  spread  a  large  map  out  on  the  table  to 
explain  to  them  the  way  they  were  to  return  to  England. 

"One  might  almost  say,"  he  remarked,  as  he  pointed  to 
the  map,  "that  all  the  world  is  a  stage  of  a  military  play 
and  that  every  country  furnishes  the  players  and  the  scenery. 
This  map  only  shows  part  of  what  is  called  the  theater  of 
war,  for  I  might  paraphrase  Shakespeare's  verse  farther  by 
saying  that  all  the  world's  a  war-stage.  This  map  shows 
something  of  what  is  going  on  all  the  way  from  the  battle- 
field in  Flanders  to  the  eastern  battlefields  on  which  Turkey 
will  eventually  prove,  I  am  confident,  an  ally  of  the  Ger- 
man-Austrians  in  Europe's  great  war." 

"It  seems  a  long  way,"  said  Ward,  "back  over  what  I 
used  to  think  were  the  little  countries  of  Europe." 

"Yes,  for  we  have  to  cross  Bulgaria  to  Rustchuk,  then  up 
to  Budapest,  then  half  a  thousand  miles  up  into  Germany, 
through  Austria,  then  almost  as  much  again  until  we  get 
to  Holland  or  Denmark,  and  then  on  to  England  and  home. ' ' 

"And  these  eastern  battlefields — shall  we  have  to  go 
through  any  of  them?"  asked  Ward,  anxiously  looking  at 
Athena. 

"Once  beyond  the  Servian  lines,  I  think  that  we  will  be 
able  to  go  right  straight  on  through  to  Austria  and  on  to 
the  Netherlands,  ...  at  least  that  is  my  program,"  and 
as  he  spoke  the  words  he  pursed  his  lips  doubtfully. 

And  almost  at  that  very  moment  one  of  the  officers  of 

11 


164  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

the  ship  came  rushing  down  excitedly,  a  marconigram  in  his 
hand,  for  even  that  merchant  craft  had  already  been  fitted 
out  with  wireless  in  anticipation  of  the  war. 

"It  is  the  Jehad — the  Jehad.  It  is  the  holy  war.  We 
have  here  our  orders  to  hasten  back  directly  from  Varna 
for  our  armament." 

Athena  grasped  the  arm  of  her  father,  while  O'Rourke 
responded  to  their  inquiring  look  by  saying: 

"The  Jehad.  It  means  war.  It  means  the  holy  war.  It- 
has  caught  us  a  little  sooner  than  I  had  expected." 


XX 

FROM  VARNA  TO  RUSTCHUK 

They  wasted  no  time  at  Varna,  hardly  glancing  at  the 
town  as  they  hastened  from  the  steamer  landing  to  the  wait- 
ing train.  Even  the  then  still  neutral  Bulgaria  felt  some 
of  the  heat  of  the  war  flames  in  its  own  members,  so  lately 
withered  by  the  battle  fires  of  the  Balkan  struggle. 

The  news  of  the  war  had  unexpectedly  crowded  the  train, 
and  they  were  thrust  into  a  compartment  with  an  old 
prophet-looking  Turk  and  his  four  wives,  who,  all  four  after 
eyeing  Athena  for  a  long  time,  made;  after  the  Eastern  fash- 
ion, hospitable  advances  in  offerings  of  fruits,  flowers  and 
sweetmeats. 

Athena,  in  the  companionship  of  the  veiled  women,  over- 
came much  of  her  excitement,  for  there  was  one 
among  them  whose  dark  eyes,  looking  out  at  Athena  over 
her  yakmash,  showed  a  friendly  sparkle.  She  spoke  French, 
and  the  two  were  soon  conversing  together  upon  the  topics 
which  form  a  sisterhood  from  the  divergent  types  of  woman- 
kind. 

O'Rourke  had  telegraphed  ahead  to  Rustchuk  asking  that 
a  boat  be  chartered  for  the  party  to  make  the  trip  up  the 
Danube. 

The  great  stretch  of  plains,  deepening  down  towards  the 
rugged  mountain  which,  in  the  crisp  November  air  took  on 
a  cold  steel  blue  from  the  sky  above,  contrasting  wildly  with 
the  browns  and  greens  of  the  landscape,  fascinated  and  held 
Athena  during  the  half  day's  journey. 


FROM  VARNA  TO  RUSTCHUK  165 

It  was  impossible  for  them  to  charter  a  boat  at  Rustchuk 
immediately,  so  O'Rourke  proposed  that  they  proceed  over 
into  that  other  still  neutral  country,  Roumania,  and  to  its 
capital,  Bucharest,  where  better  hotel  accommodations  could 
be  secured  than  at  Rustchuk  during  the  two  or  three  days 
they  would  have  to  wait  until  the  steamer  was  chartered. 

"Besides,"  explained  O'Rourke,  "we  shall  not  have  to 
return  across  the  great  width  of  the  Danube  here  to  Rust- 
chuk, for  we  can  have  the  steamer  come  directly  on  to 
Giurgevo. ' ' 

So  to  Roumania  they  went,  over  the  wide  sweeping  plains, 
dotted  with  scattered  villages  of  mournful  peasants,  in  the 
ever  present  tall  Astrakhan  hat  of  black. 

There  was  nothing  to  hold  them  in  Bucharest,  although 
the  hotel  was  passingly  fair,  but  the  weak  imitation  of 
French  life  ostentatiously  displayed  about  them  grated 
harshly  and  they  were  heartily  glad  when  O'Rourke  finally 
came  and  announced  that  they  would  immediately  return  to 
Rustchuk,  where  their  chartered  steamer  awaited  them. 

When  they  boarded  it,  they  were  surprised  at  its  spacious- 
ness. It  was  an  old  affair,  but  still  "river  worthy" — as 
O'Rourke  expressed  it — a  comfortable  old  boat,  spacious 
cabins  on  the  main  deck  with  the  engines  well  out  of  the 
way  below,  and  the  whole  upper  deck  free  and  open  for 
promenading  and  sightseeing. 

The  pick-up  crew  of  neutrals  had  put  the  ship  in  a  most 
clean  and  comfortable  shape,  and  they  all  congratulated  each 
other  upon  their  good  fortune.  Athena's  maid  had  stayed 
in  Constantinople,  and  so  a  faithful  Bulgarian  woman,  who 
had  been  in  the  French  Capital  with  the  embassy  of  her 
country,  took  her  place. 

There  was  a  piano  aboard,  which,  although  ancient,  had 
been  recently  tuned — one  of  those  sweet,  old-time,  melodious 
instruments,  petted  and  coaxed  out  of  wood  and  steel,  by 
the  deft  fingers  of  a  generation  of  master  piano  makers  long 
since  passed  away. 

O'Rourke,  who  had  never  betrayed  his  musical  knowledge 
on  the  yacht  cruise,  as  soon  as  the  craft  was  well  steaming 
up  the  river,  came  down  to  the  cabin,  after  making  an  in- 
spection of  the  ship,  and  seating  himself  at  the  piano  har- 
monized beautifully,  thrilling  Athena  and  her  father  with 
the  beauty  of  his  execution. 

"How  wonderful!"  exclaimed  Athena.  "How  can  you  do 
it,  and  with  so  little  practice?" 


166  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Because  I  do  not  attempt  things  too  difficult,"  he  re- 
sponded simply.  "Now,  here,  for  example,  if  I  should  at- 
tempt this  Bach  fugue  you  would  see  what  a  botch  I  would 
make  of  it,"  and  running  his  fingers  lightly  through  the 
prelude,  he  stopped  abruptly. 

"Oh,  do  please  go  on.  You  play  it  so  wonderfully,"  she 
insisted.  ' '  I  know  it  myself,  and  I  can 't  hear  or  see  anything 
amiss  in  it.  Your  touch  and  technique  are  exquisitely  beau- 
tiful." 

Without  further  insistence,  dreamily,  as  though  to  him- 
self, he  played  on,  sometimes  in  the  climax  of  harmony,  his 
nostrils  dilating  to  the  spell  of  the  music,  as  with  closed  eyes 
he  abandoned  himself  to  the  instrument's  masterly  control, 
which  seemed  to  Athena  to  come  from  the  spirit  of  some  in- 
visible genii  passing  on  down  through  him  as  its  conductor. 

' '  Oh !  Oh ! ' '  she  exclaimed  over  and  over  again,  unconscious 
of  all  in  the  thrall  of  the  enjoyment.  He  finished  and  then 
turned  to  her  abruptly.  He  did  not  seem  surprised  that 
Athena's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"I  was  so  hungry  for  music  that  I  could  not  help  it,"  he 
said.  "Yes,  hungry  for  music,  it  has  been  so  long  since  I 
have  had  any  of  any  sort." 

Athena  came  and  sat  down  upon  the  bench  like  a  pupil  be- 
side her  master.  Naturally  he  moved  away  slightly  so  that 
she  might  take  her  position  farther  to  the  right  to  allow  him 
freedom  in  playing.  The  old  man  sank  down  into  a  fauteuil 
beside  them,  and  with  his  hands  on  his  knees,  bowed  his  grey 
head,  captivated  by  the  charm  of  the  music. 

Then  O'Rourke  stopped  abruptly,  and  said,  looking  at 
Athena : 

"I  did  so  enjoy  the  Prince  of  Reisberg's  singing  on  the 
yacht." 

"Yes.  But  you — why  did  you  not  tell  us  of  your  wonder- 
ful gift?" 

"Gift,  did  you  say?"  he  returned,  and  then  as  if  embar- 
rassed, arose  and  went  on  evasively: 

"Ah,  but  you  have  yet  to  see  the  dining  salon.  I  merely 
had  a  ten  minutes'  chat  with  the  agent  of  the  boat  and  he 
has  certainly  'done  himself  proud' — to  use  our  very  Amer- 
ican expression — in  fitting  things  out  for  us." 

The  whole  after-salon  had  been  banked  on  either  side  with 
potted  trees  and  ferns,  with  a  lattice  work  above  entwined 
with  growing  vines,  and  beneath  this,  in  the  very  center,  a 


167 

strangely  unusual  triangular  table  had  been  built,  with  its 
angles  curved  off  and  hidden  with  banks  of  roses  whose  ivory 
yellow  and  blushing  red  were  reflected  from  the  costly  and 
expensive  service  of  crystal  and  Bohemian  ware. 

' '  Oh,  how  lovely ! ' '  exclaimed  Athena.  ' '  It  makes  me  hun- 
gry just  to  look  at  anything  so  beautiful,  particularly  since 
I  really  haven't  had  a  good  meal  since  we  left  our  yacht," 
and  Athena  assumed  such  a  mock  expression  of  misery  that 
both  men  laughed  heartily;  she,  herself,  joining  in  the  mer- 
riment. 

"Well,  your  appetite,  no  matter  how  dainty  or  hearty,  will, 
I  am  sure,  be  gratified  in  every  whim,"  declared  O'Rourke, 
"for  when  I  mentioned  the  necessity  of  a  good  chef  to  the 
agent,  he  told  me  that  he  could  obtain  a  real  Turkish  chef, 
a  little  old,  but  whose  like  he  had  never  known.  As  master 
of  ceremonies,  I  went  down  to  interview  him  a  while  ago  and 
I  can  assure  you  from  his  commissary  and  kitchen  and  from 
his  eagerness  to  please,  we  shall  not  go  hungry,  even  though 
we  may  be  the  most  exacting  of  epicures.  When  will  you  be 
ready  to  dine?" 

Each  one  looked  at  the  other  hungrily,  but  even  from  their 
informal  American  standpoint  it  seemed  a  pity  to  the  three 
of  them  to  spoil  the  beauty  of  the  whole  effect  by  not  being 
thoroughly  conventional.  So  the  men  understood  and  smiled 
when  Athena  said: 

"Say,  half  an  hour  from  now.  That  will  give  us  time  to 
change." 

They  went  to  their  cabins,  and  were  even  before  the  time 
appointed,  gathered  again  in  the  dining  salon ;  Athena  radiant 
and  beautiful  in  a  simple  frock  with  a  corsage  bouquet;  the 
Colonel  and  O'Bourke  in  dinner  coats  of  the  easy  American 
cut,  the  Colonel  still  wearing  the  old  shoe  string  bow  tie  of 
ante-bellum  days. 

What  a  trio  that  was!  Such  a  menu  it  would  be  hard  to 
produce  anywhere !  The  great  chefs  say  that  they  never  care 
to  cook  a  dinner  for  more  than  four,  and  perhaps  it  might  have 
been  the  discount  of  the  allowance  that  brought  out  from 
this  particular  Turkish  chef  the  wonderful  toothsomeness  of 
every  dish. 

The  soup,  daintily  served  in  double-handed  deep  cups,  was 
light  and  clear,  with  a  pungent  taste  that  edged  their  hunger 
on  followed  the  cocktail  of  clams ;  then  the  fish,  bursting  open 
like  popcorn  at  the  slightest  touch  beneath  its  deliciously 


168 

sauced  skin;  then  a  leg  of  mutton,  fresh  from  the  plains  of 
Roumania,  with  salads  culled  that  very  morning  from  a  sunny 
recess  of  the  hillsides ;  following  floated  in  a  dessert  of ' '  Turk- 
ish delight"  pudding,  as  pleasing  to  the  eye  as  it  was  tooth- 
some to  the  palate,  and  afterwards  that  rarety  of  all  good 
things:  a  demi-tasse  of  Turkish  coffee,  or  just  a  tasse,  if  you 
will,  for  every  Turkish  tasse  of  coffee  is  a  demi-tasse. 

"No  wines  necessary  to  digest  such  good  cooking  as  this, 
is  there?"  commented  Ward. 

"No,"  responded  O'Bourke,  "and  you  have  just  struck 
upon  a  point,  which  proves  the  contention  I  have  made  ever 
since  you  sent  me  to  the  Academy,  that  the  best  remedy  against 
alcoholism  is  good  cooking.  A  good  square  meal,  taken  just 
when  a  man  feels  like  going  on  a  spree  will  always  cause  him 
to  hold  back." 

They  talked  and  conversed  long  at  the  table,  going  back 
over  the  memories  of  their  cruise,  the  Colonel  and  Athena  in 
turns  expressing  regret  in  not  having  news  from  the  Duchess, 
Cornelia  or  Coste,  nor  from  the  Prince.  Upon  all  of  which 
O'Rourke  made  no  comment,  until,  when  they  had  finished, 
he  remarked: 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  we  shall  meet  Haiden  before  we  get 
out  of  Austria,  and,  in  fact,  even  before  we  get  well  into  it, 
for  I  was  only  waiting  for  a  chance  to  tell  you  that  it  is  upon 
the  Prince  that  I  am  most  particularly  counting.  .  .  .  For  it 
is  he  who  will  get  us  our  safe-conduct  through  the  lines.  You 
see,"  he  continued,  as  they  looked  at  him  expectantly.  "The 
Prince  has  been  in  action  with  his  regiment — ,  went  into 
action  just  before  he  got  me  my — ,  my — , "  he  stammered  at 
the  thought  that  he  had  almost  divulged  that  Haiden  had  ob- 
tained his  release  from  the  prison  where  the  instigation  of 
Magnus  had  thrust  him  as  a  spy  suspect,  but  in  a  moment  he 
added : 

' '  Just  before  I  came  to  join  you  at  Constantinople. ' ' 

He  paused  with  a  breath  of  relief  and  then  continued: 

' '  The  Prince  greatly  distinguished  himself ;  in  fact,  so  much 
so  that  on  the  sheer  merit  as  a  strategist,  young  as  he  is,  he 
was  made  a  brigade  commander,  for  he  practically  saved  the 
Austrians  by  his  skill  and  bravery  from  being  outflanked  by 
the  Russians." 

' '  Have  you  seen  him  ?  Have  you  met  him  ? ' '  asked  Athena, 
trying  to  cover  her  interest. 

"I  have  received  a  letter  from  him  and  talked  to  him  by 


FROM  VARNA  TO  RUSTCHUK  169 

long  distance,  just  before  I  left  for  Constantinople  and  as 
he  came  down  from  the  Vistula.  He  was  over  a  hundred  miles 
away  from  me  then.  But  even  as  he  talked  I  could  hear  the 
booming  of  the  cannon  through  the  telephone,  but  he  told 
me  if — ,  if — ,  if  he  could  be  of  any  assistance,  just  through 
what  channels  I  would  be  able  to  reach  him." 

"Ah.     Then  we  shall  see  him  soon!"  exclaimed  Athena. 

"Yes,"  returned  O'Rourke  slowly,  avoiding  her  gaze,  and 
then  with  an  effort  again  repeated,  "Yes — ,  if — ,  if — "  . 

"Of  course,"  blurted  out  "Ward,  "a  soldier's  life  is  always 
uncertain.  I  understand." 

"What!  Do  you  mean  that  he  may  be  killed?"  queried 
Athena. 

"Oh,  he  told  me  that  they  were  well  entrenched  and  ad- 
vancing entirely  under  cover.  ...  He  is  a  very  brave  man, 
and  would  never  hesitate  to  die,  ...  if  needs  be,  bravely." 

He  paused,  conscious  that  his  last  remark  had  an  in- 
coherence in  it  which  did  not  express  his  thought. 

The  two  looked  at  him  gravely,  but  lightly  gathering  up  a 
rose,  he  breathed  its  fragrance  for  a  moment  and  then  said : 

"I  think  it  would  be  better  if  we  would,  for  the  time  being, 
not  discuss  the  other  members  of  our  pleasant  cruise.  We 
have  a  long  trip  before  us,  and  much  else  to  occupy  our  minds. 
It  may  seem  puerile  of  me  to  make  this  request." 

"Not  at  all.  Not  at  all,"  asserted  Ward,  but  Athena 
tipped  her  chin  in  rebellious  disapproval. 

The  steamer,  in  spite  of  its  age,  was  making  good  time, 
steadying  up  against  the  current  of  the  wide  Danube,  which, 
every  hour  gathered  nearer  on  its  shores. 

As  they  strolled  about  in  the  spaciousness  of  the  promenade 
deck  the  interest  of  the  journey  grew  upon  Athena.  To  her, 
it  was  not  at  that  point  the  blue  Danube,  nor  to  any  one  else, 
except  the  composer  of  the  famous  waltz.  But  to  Athena,  as 
to  all  others,  the  charm  of  the  Danube  did  not  lie  in  its  wide 
waters,  but  in  the  novelty  of  its  landscapes  and  the  strange 
picturesqueness  of  those  villages  of  Eastern  life,  which  dotted 
its  banks  and  which  always  fascinate  the  eyes  of  the  denizen 
of  the  West.  Of  course,  on  their  private  chartered  steamer, 
she  saw  nothing  of  the  cosmopolitan  passenger  life  to  be  found 
nowhere  more  novel  than  on  the  packet  boats  on  the  Danube. 
But  she  saw  Semendra  seeming  almost  as  Turkish  and  East- 
ern as  the  villages  they  left  behind,  with  its  well-built  stone 
quays  and  banks  beyond,  planted  with  trees  that  finally  con- 


170  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

verged  into  a  public  recreation  park.  The  great  line  of  cas- 
telated  and  pinnacled  towers,  with  its  immense  fortress  still 
intact  in  spite  of  the  ravages  of  time  and  siege  and  battle, 
alone  spoke  to  her  of  war,  for  in  the  comfort  and  ease  of  their 
own  steamer,  they  knew  naught  of  what  was  taking  place  on 
about  and  beyond  them.  The  flat-growing  bushes  and  full 
heather  and  yellow  grass  on  the  Hungarian-Servian  banks, 
with  trees  waving  their  branches  over  the  water  upon  the  peb- 
bled beach,  bore  in  the  very  aspect  of  their  monotony  and 
isolation,  as  she  thought,  an  assurance  of  peace. 

Yes,  to  her  it  was  a  voyage  of  peace.  Even  the  Bulgarian 
banks  charmed  her  with  their  dusty  bluffs  and  hills.  To  her 
it  was  a  voyage  towards  the  only  secure  land  she  knew:  her 
own  America.  And  so  thinking  she  fell  asleep  to  the  full,  heavy 
rhythm  of  the  engines,  little  thinking  of  what  the  morning 
would  bring. 


XXI 

IN  THE  GREY  OF  MORNING 

The  morning  was  grey  and  misty.  The  trees,  on  the  low 
banks  on  either  side  as  they  steamed  ahead,  stretched  out  their 
leafless  branches  like  skeletons.  The  three,  enveloped  in  their 
heavy  coats,  stood  watching  from  the  upper  deck. 

Suddenly,  as  the  steamer  took  its  course  nearer  towards 
one  of  the  banks,  O'Rourke  pointed.  From  somewhere  be- 
yond, an  outline  like  the  spiny  back  of  a  gigantic  porcupine 
appeared,  crawling  along  the  bank.  As  they  looked  the  spines 
became  rifles  length  and  then  they  saw  that  it  was  a  regiment 
of  infantry.  Two  or  three  figures  towered  up  higher  than 
the  others;  they  were  the  field  officers  on  horseback.  Sud- 
denly they  heard  a  command  coming  faint  over  the  still  water 
and  the  column  stopped ;  the  rifle  lines  dropped,  and  a  voice 
came  calling  to  them, — a  gruff,  heavy,  military  voice — bellow- 
ing out  from  hands  placed  before  the  mouth  as  a  megaphone : 

"What  flag?" 

The  boat  steamed  farther  out  into  the  muddy  waters. 
Again  the  voice  called,  and  then  another  likewise.  They  could 
hear  lower  tones  of  command,  and  then, — then  fire  crasher)  out 
from  the  bank  through  the  grey  of  the  morning.  .  .  .  There 


IN  THE  GREY  OF  MORNING  171 

was  a  crash  of  glass  as  the  bullets  spit  through  the  windows. 

"Full  steam  ahead  and  away!"  cried  out  O'Rourke  to  the 
Captain  at  the  wheel,  as  he  hurried  Athena  and  her  father 
behind  the  protection  of  the  funnel. 

Again  and  again  the  volleys  reddened  out  towards  them, 
until  finally  the  banks  disappeared  in  the  mist. 

''A  pretty  mess,"  remarked  O'Rourke,  after  the  firing  had 
ceased.  ' '  There  is  no  other  way  but  to  press  ahead.  To  stop 
at  any  but  principal  ports  where  there  is  a  staff  headquarters 
would  mean  continual  detention  and  dangerous  arrest  on  the 
part  of  these  patrol  companies  whose  commanders  have  no 
authority  to  do  anything  but  to  refer  prisoners  to  head- 
quarters. I  will  report  this  matter  to  Belgrade,  with  the  re- 
quest that  the  company  commanders  patroling  the  banks  no 
longer  fire  upon  us,  for  there  is  not  another  steamer  on  the 
river  like  this  and  it  is  easily  identified  as  neutral." 

They  came  to  Belgrade ;  its  buildings  rising  up  one  upon 
the  other  from  the  water  line,  and  all  surmounted  by  the 
high  belfry  of  the  Greek  church,  the  whole  making  a  gloomy, 
dismal  scene,  relieved  only  by  a  wooded  stretch  on  the  hillside 
and  a  few  low  growing  cypress  beneath. 

"The  most  wretched  capital  in  Europe,"  remarked 
O'Rourke,  "and  barbaric  in  memory,  although  in  the  sum- 
mer time  there  is  much  of  attractiveness  in  the  country  about. 
As  soon  as  I  have  established  our  credentials  for  the  continu- 
ation of  the  voyage  we  will  proceed." 

There  was  anchored  wrell  up  in  the  Danube  above  Belgrade, 
an  Austrian  monitor  gunboat,  trim  and  natty,  its  white  lines 
gracefully  marking  the  yellow  water  and  its  long  guns  gap- 
ing from  their  white  turrets  toward  the  Semlin  bridge,  which 
linked  Servia  to  Hungary,  where  the  river  Save  pounded  its 
dark  waters  into  the  yellow,  writhing  body  of  the  Danube. 
Again  O'Rourke  reported  to  headquarters  and  again  their 
steamer  was  cleared. 

For  hours  they  sailed  between  the  monotonous  river  banks, 
here  and  there  a  village  of  a  few  houses,  with  a  few  sickly 
trees  beyond  and  a  half  dozen  straggling  oar  boats  before. 
They  were  still  heading  rapidly  up  the  stream;  the  three  in 
their  chairs,  reading  and  chatting  in  cpiet  enjoyment,  with 
no  thought  of  further  danger,  when,  without  warning,  some- 
thing crashed  through  the  steamer,  shaking  it  from  stem  to 
stern. 

The  men  jumped  to  their  feet  in  consternation.    Just  away 


172  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

from  the  village  which  they  had  last  passed,  and  on  a  hilly 
bank  above  it,  appeared  the  wheels  of  sheltered  field  gun  car- 
riages, with  their  limbers  placed  beside  them. 

O'Rourke,  braving  the  danger  of  another  artillery  shot, 
or  possible  rifle  fire,  ran  to  the  stern  of  the  steamer,  crying 
out  in  German : 

"We  are  peaceful  Americans!  We  are  neutral!  Do  not 
fire!"  using  his  hands  as  a  megaphone,  but  again  and  again 
shells  tore  through  the  steamer,  splintering  the  woodwork 
and  making  the  tiniest  splinter  a  dangerous  weapon. 

All  was  confusion ;  the  crew  running  hither  and  thither ; 
some  jumping  into  the  waters  of  the  river. 

O'Rourke  rushed  up  on  the  Captain's  bridge.  Fortunately 
just  beyond  them  the  Danube  in  its  turning  had  left  a  high 
promontory  jutting  out  into  its  waters  and  could  they  pass 
beyond  it  they  would  be  sheltered  from  the  murderous  fire. 

"We  are  lost!  We  are  lost!"  cried  the  Captain.  "They 
will  never  stop  firing  until  they  have  killed  and  sunk  us  all. ' ' 

But  O'Rourke,  calmly  pointing  at  the  promontory,  quieted 
his  fears  and  urged  him  on  in  the  performance  of  his  duties. 

The  change  of  the  steamer's  course  seemed  to  trouble  the 
gunners  in  the  range  finding.  The  engines  were  still  un- 
touched, and  with  every  pound  of  steam  they  shot  ahead,  only 
one  shell  reaching  them  after  they  had  gone  beyond  the 
promontory  and  to  safety. 

"The  Servian  gunners  are  a  pretty  wild  lot,"  remarked 
O'Rourke,  reassuringly.  "Nobody  seems  to  have  been  killed 
or  wounded.  Now,  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  put  out  the  6re. 
Send  one  of  your  men  with  me  who  understands  the  pumps 
and  I  will  fight  the  fire  while  you  push  ahead, ' '  he  commanded 
the  Captain.  "Keep  well  out  in  midstream  or  we  may 
again  run  into  one  of  these  unpleasant  little  batteries." 

The  deck  below  was  a  shambles.  The  red  flames  of  the  fire, 
feeding  upon  the  oil  of  the  storeroom,  licking  up  greedily 
over  the  splintered  wood. 

After  restoring  reason  to  the  minds  of  the  crazed  crew, 
O'Rourke  had  the  pumps  manned  and  bravely  they  fought 
against  the  flames,  shooting  ton  after  ton  of  water  over  the 
fire,  which,  at  last,  they  seemed  to  vanquish. 

But  a  new  danger  threatened  them  and  O'Rourke  was  the 
first  to  see  it. 

"Stop,  men,"  he  cried.  "Although  we  are  putting  out  the 
fire,  we  are  sinking  the  boat  by  the  weight  of  the  water.  Wait 


IN  THE  GREY  OF  MORNING  173 

until  the  pumps  have  lightened  the  ship.  Then  we  will  again 
commence." 

But  no  sooner  had  they  stopped  throwing  water  upon  the 
flames  than  they  again  licked  upward  through  the  black 
smoke,  and  O'Rourke  perceived  that  the  steamer  was  doomed 
— doomed  to  a  quick  destruction. 

"Man  the  boats,"  he  cried,  running  along  the  deck,  look- 
ing into  each  boat,  to  see  its  condition,  and  finally  selecting 
the  one  which  he  thought  best  suited  for  saving  Athena  and 
her  father. 

"Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  whole  stern  of  the  ship 
was  a  mass  of  flames  and  the  crew,  with  the  life  boats  before 
them  on  the  deck  and  all  belted  with  life  preservers,  were 
pushing  up,  foot  by  foot,  towards  the  bow  as  the  licking 
tongues  of  fire  viciously  lunged  and  spit  out  at  them.  But 
still  the  engines  worked  on;  the  mechanical  life  of  the  ship 
still  pulsated,  although  the  engineers  and  firemen  and  stokers 
long  since  had  fled  from  it. 

Suddenly  there  was  an  angry  rasping  gasp,  as  from  the 
throat  of  a  giant,  and  the  flames  shot  even  higher  upward, 
belching  forth  like  the  crater  of  a  volcano.  Then — ,  .  .  .  the 
engines  stopped — ,  the  burning  ship  swung  lengthwise  in  the 
stream,  balanced  itself  against  the  current  for  a  moment  and 
drifted  back  down  and  shoreward. 

"To  the  boats!  To  the  boats!"  cried  O'Rourke,  hurrying 
Athena  and  her  father  down  into  the  one  he  had  prepared, 
and  with  a  couple  of  picked  men,  they  were  soon  rapidly  row- 
ing away  from  the  burning  steamer,  from  which  rolled  up- 
ward great  clouds  of  black  smoke. 

As  they  looked  they  heard  a  crack,  and  one  of  the  rowers 
fell  over  backwards  with  a  piece  of  broken  oar  in  his  hand. 
The  boat,  swinging  around,  moved  by  a  counter  current,  fol- 
lowed down  the  river  at  an  angle  that  would  bring -it  up 
against  the  burning  vessel. 

Closer  and  closer  they  found  themselves  drifting  towards 
the  seething,  flaming  mass.  Already  they  could  feel  the  hot 
puff  of  the  fire  upon  their  cheeks.  But  O'Rourke  said  re- 
assuringly, as  he  stood  up  with  hands  outstretched  to  balance 
the  boat: 

' '  Do  not  be  afraid,  for  there  is  still  plenty  of  time  and  our 
life  preservers  will  save  us." 

He  moved  over  to  the  stern  and  set  the  remaining  oar  in 
the  sculling  notch,  and  at  the  same  time  giving  the  flaming 


174  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

mass,  that  was  now  bearing  down  directly  upon  them,  a  dis- 
turbed glance  that  belied  his  comforting  words  of  reassurance. 
For  he  knew  that  the  danger  was  imminent,  that  it  would 
be  only  a  matter  of  a  few  moments  before  the  boilers  exploded 
and  the  whole  river  would  be  covered  with  the  flames  from 
the  dismembered  vessel,  vomiting  out  the  fire  of  its  own 
destruction. 


XXII 
NEW  ARMY  ROADS 

How  O'Rourke  ever  managed  to  force  the  rowboat  back 
from  the  burning  steamer  he  could  never  have  explained.  But 
when  the  explosion  did  take  place  they  were  far  enough  away 
to  suffer  no  damage  other  than  from  a  fire  brand  which  slight- 
ly burned  O'Rourke. 

"There  could  hardly  have  been  a  more  desolate  place  se- 
lected by  Providence  to  land  on,"  remarked  O'Rourke,  good 
naturedly,  as  he  helped  Athena  and  her  father  up  the  muddy 
bank  and  looked  back  at  the  thinning  clouds  of  smoke  that 
rose  from  the  broken  but  still  burning  parts  of  the  steamer. 
"The  boat  itself  will  do  us  little  good  because  with  one  oar 
we  could  never  stem  this  current,  and  to  go  down  stream 
would  mean  another  reception  from  our  Servian  friends,  who, 
evidently,  are  some  poorly  officered  men  who  have  not  yet 
learned  that  everyone  they  see  and  don't  know  is  not  an 
enemy. ' ' 

He  turned  and  scanned  the  horizon,  putting  his  hands  up 
to  his  eyes  in  search  of  a  possible  farm  or  fisher  house. 

' '  I  am  glad  that  I  happened  to  think  of  getting  some  things 
together  in  the  boat,"  he  remarked.  "Here,  I  will  bail  it 
out,  and  pull  it  up  high  beyond  the  water.  Then  if  you  will 
make  yourself  as  comfortable  as  you  can  for  awhile,  I  will 
go  over  beyond  that  high  hill  where  possibly  we  can  find 
someone  who  will  aid  us.  Fortunately,  we  are  well  supplied 
with  money,  for  that  is  an  item,  too,  which  I  didn't  happen 
to  forget  in  the  hurry  of  the  breakaway." 

He  looked  up  and  down  the  stream  and  across  to  the  other 
bank. 

' '  Have  no  fear  of  more  guns, ' '  he  said  reassuringly.    ' '  We 


NEW  ARMY  ROADS  175 

are  in  a  desolate  and  uninhabited  district  as  far  as  I  can  see. 
All  the  other  members  of  the  crew  have  evidently  drifted  way 
on  farther  down  the  stream.  Poor  devils,  I  hope  that  none 
of  them  are  lost.  We  must,  as  soon  as  possible,  make  some 
provision  to  reward  them.  It  was  one  of  the  closest  calls  I 
ever  had. " 

"Yes,"  commended  Ward,  his  philanthropic  interest  awak- 
ened. "Yes,  we  must  see  every  man  in  the  steamer  is  well 
compensated. ' ' 

"Of  course,  the  Servian  government  is  liable  to  them  for 
damages  as  well  as  for  the  loss  of  the  steamer,"  said  O'Rourke. 
' '  Hello !  What  have  we  here  ?  "  he  cried,  looking  off  at  some 
distance  beyond  the  bank. 

He  pointed  below  him  where  they  saw  that  the  ground,  for 
yards  of  width,  had  been  beaten  down  hard  by  the  wide  tires 
of  heavy  vehicles,  where  not  cut  up  by  the  tramp  of  men's 
feet  and  horses'  hoofs.  In  a  minute  he  was  over  the  bank 
examining  the  strange  road  and  looking  up  and  down  its 
whole  length. 

' '  There  has  been  a  large  armed  force  passing  over  here,  and 
it  is  they  who  have  made  this  fresh  road,"  exclaimed 
0  'Rourke.  ' '  See  !  There  are  the  heavy  wheel  tracks  of  the 
artillery.  There  must  have  been  a  dozen  batteries  at  least 
and  then  there,  see!  it  would  take  several  regiments  of  cav- 
alry to  chop  up  the  ground  that  way,  and  on  either  side  you 
see  where  the  infantry,  in  route  order,  has  stamped  down  the 
grass  and  cut  up  its  own  lighter  roads.  Evidently  quite  a 
little  army,"  he  smiled  grimly,  "and  all  hustling  along  to 
get  into  action,  I  should  say,  by  the  way  they  all  kept  their 
positions  in  the  march.  .  .  .  Ah,  if  I  only  knew  whether  they 
were  Austrians  or  Servians,"  he  mused,  and  explained  as  he 
looked  down  at  the  roads. 

"You  see,  if  we  were  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Servians 
it  would  mean  that  for  a  considerable  time  we  will  have  to 
turn  our  backs  to  the  way  we  are  going.  Now,  if  this  armed 
force  which  passed  this  way  was  Austrian,  whatever  did  hap- 
pen to  us  would  bring  us  nearer  to  Budapest  and  from  that 
city  we  could  make  our  way  over  to  the  rest  of  Hungary,  then 
Austria  and  Germany.  Ah !  Wait  a  moment, ' '  he  exclaimed, 
as  an  idea  occurred  to  him.  "I  am  quite  familiar  with  the 
uniform  and  other  equipment  of  European  armies,  and  since 
it  very  rarely  happens  that  a  march  of  such  a  number  of 
men  as  this  goes  far  without  one  of  the  soldiers  losing  or 


176  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

throwing  away  something,  perhaps  I  may  identify  them.  .  .  . 
Then  if  they  are  Austrians,  we  will  follow,  for  those  roads 
certainly  were  made  not  more  than  a  few  hours  ago.  I  should 
say  that  there  were  Germans  in  command,  for  the  German 
officers  never  allow  any  straggling.  But  if  I  should  find  that 
they  are  Servians,  then,  of  course,  we  would  have  to  find  some 
other  way  to  get  up  into  the  Austrian  lines." 

Taking  off  his  jacket,  he  threw  it  into  the  boat  and  smiling- 
ly waved  to  them  as  he  started  off  at  a  rapid  pace  down  the 
road,  looking  to  the  right  and  left. 

The  two  watched  him  anxiously  as  he  wound  around  a 
knoll  separating  him  for  a  time  from  their  view;  but  he 
finally  reappeared  in  the  distance  beyond,  pushing  rapidly 
ahead  over  the  plain,  and  then  upwards  on  a  long  sloping 
hill,  covered  with  wood,  in  which  he  was  finally  lost. 

"Daughter,  will  you  ever  forgive  me  for  getting  you  into 
such  a  dreadful  predicament?"  asked  Ward  tenderly,  as  he 
drew  Athena  closer  to  him  on  the  seat  of  the  boat. 

"Oh,  father,"  she  returned.  "For  myself  I  fear  nothing, 
but  to  think  that  again  you  should  be  the  victim  of  such  cir- 
cumstances. How  is  it  possible  for  such  things  to  happen? 
Why,  I  wouldn  't  believe  them  if  I  read  them  in  a  book. ' ' 

The  old  man  smiled  grimly. 

"Yes,  the  last  month  has  been  pretty  full  of  adventures, 
hasn't  it?  But  I  am  sure  that  our  troubles  are  nearly  at  an 
end,  for  I  have  confidence  in  O'Rourke's  ability  to  pull  us 
through. ' ' 

Time  and  again  the  old  man  walked  up  the  bank,  scanning 
the  length  of  the  military  road  to  see  if  there  were  any  signs 
of  the  return  of  0  'Rourke.  But  the  weary  monotonous  roll  of 
plain  and  hill  stretched  out  before  him  without  a  living 
creature  to  be  seen.  Then  suddenly  from  out  of  the  woods  a 
figure  on  a  horse  appeared,  hedged  about  by  men  who  walked 
with  the  trained  precision  of  soldiers. 

He  watched  them  eagerly  as  they  came  on  back  down  over 
the  road,  until  finally  he  could  make  out  the  line  of  their 
rifles,  and  as  they  came  nearer,  he  distinguished  their  faces. 
With  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  advancing  men,  he  searched 
eagerly  for  0  'Rourke,  but  0  'Rourke  was  not  among  them. 


DOWN  THE  ROAD  177 


XXIII 

DOWN    THE    ROAD 


Ward,  giving  his  arm  to  his  daughter,  considered  that  the 
only  thing  to  do  would  be  to  advance  towards  the  armed  force 
to  avoid  any  possible  chance  of  being  fired  upon. 

The  men,  under  a  command  from  the  officer  on  horseback, 
spread  themselves  out  away  from  the  middle  of  the  road, 
down  which  came  the  solitary  mounted  figure,  capped  and 
uniformed  in  the  only  half  concealed  colors  of  the  Austrian 
uniform. 

"An  American  just  detained  in  our  camp  beyond  has  re- 
ported your  presence  here,"  remarked  the  officer,  as  he 
finally  came  up,  saluting  curtly,  yet  with  deference.  "I  am 
sorry  that  we  have  no  means  of  conveyance  for  the  lady, ' '  and 
he  glanced  long  and  admiringly  at  Athena,  whose  soft  hair, 
loosened  in  the  excitement,  enframed  her  classic  face,  pink 
cheeked  with  excitement.  "But  our  military  saddles  are  quite 
easy  riding  sidewise, ' '  he  continued,  ' '  and  if  the  lady  will  ac- 
cept my  mount,  we  will  immediately  go  to  rejoin  your  com- 
panion at  headquarters." 

He  dismounted  and  with  the  aid  of  a  couple  of  soldiers, 
Athena  was  seated  in  the  saddle  sidewise  and  they  started 
back,  the  soldiers  carrying  the  food  and  provisions  away  from 
the  boat. 

' '  Do  you  smoke  ? ' '  asked  Ward,  in  his  hospitable  way,  ten- 
dering him  a  cigar.  "I  am  sorry  that  the  wrapper  is  some- 
what broken." 

The  officer,  with  a  brisk  "Thank  you,"  longingly  reached 
for  the  cigar  and  was  soon  puffing  away  deep  in  the  content 
of  the  Havana's  enjoyment. 

"We  are  glad  that  you  speak  English,"  remarked  Ward. 

The  officer,  throwing  back  his  cap  and  eyeing  the  cigar  with 
critical  delight,  puffed  out  a  cloud  of  smoke. 

"Yes,  the  German  officer  part  of  our  army  has  to  learn 
English  as  well  as  French, ' '  and  then  apparently  fearing  that 
he  might  be  engaged  in  a  conversation  which  would  give 
unwarranted  information,  he  remained  almost  gloomily  silent. 
But  he  was  young  and  the  episode  of  meeting  a  distinguished- 
looking  American,  who  was  the  father  of  such  a  beautiful 


178  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

daughter,  together  with  the  companionable  effect  of  a  cigar, 
put  him  in  a  very  receptive  mood  for  questioning. 

"What  is  the  news  of  the  war?"  asked  Ward. 

"Very  favorable,  of  course,"  the  officer  responded.  "And 
as  far  as  this  country  is  concerned,  it  will  be  still  more  favora- 
ble in  a  day  or  so,  for  we  will  have  them  on  the  run  before  a 
second  sun-rise." 

"What?"  asked  Ward.  "Do  you  mean  that  you  are  about 
to  go  into  battle  ? ' ' 

"Assuredly  and  confidentially,"  returned  the  officer. 

"What  provision  can  I  make  for  the  safety  of  my  daugh- 
ter ? ' '  asked  Ward  anxiously. 

"Oh,  we  will  take  care  of  that,"  he  returned  nonchalantly. 
"I  was  thinking  as  I  came  down  to  get  you  that  I  would  be 
happy  if  I  was  as  sure  of  getting  home  in  a  year  as  you  will  be 
in  a  month." 

The  officer  heaved  a  sigh ;  then  suddenly  stiffening  himself, 
he  gave  a  sharp  command  upon  which  several  of  the  men  took 
their  places  behind  Ward,  while  he,  striding  at  the  head  of 
the  column,  put  himself  away  from  the  further  temptation  to 
talk. 


XXIV 
A   VOICE    FROM    THE    GROUND 

When  they  had  gone  up  over  the  wooded  hillside,  they  were 
surprised  to  see  the  vast  concourse  of  men  encamped  below 
and  beyond  them ;  the  smoke  of  fires  rising  up  white  and  grey 
above  the  widely  extended  groups  of  soldiers  gathered  about 
them. 

The  men  were  resting — sitting  or  lying  about  their  stacked- 
up  arms;  some  nervously  chatting,  a  few  trying  to  joke,  but 
most  of  them  waiting  in  silence — waiting  for  the  battle  to 
commence  before  the  day  was  done.  To  Athena  there  was  a 
sinister  and  doomed-like  expression  everywhere ;  even  the  pack 
horses  standing  up  in  the  midst  of  the  resting  infantry,  held 
their  tails  dog-like  between  their  legs  as  if  they,  too,  feared  the 
end  of  the  waiting. 

Beyond  where  the  infantry  lay,  up  on  the  slopes  toward 
the  mountains,  the  stubbled  fields  showed  russet,  and  some  of 


179 

the  trees  still  wore  their  autumn  leaves,  brown  and  crackling 
in  the  clearness  of  the  frosty  air.  The  white  outline  of  a  hum- 
ble farm  dwelling  showed  itself  among  the  trees,  a  picture  of 
comfort  and  industry,  which  brought  to  the  minds  of  the 
waiting  soldiers,  as  Athena  imagined,  the  poignant  prick  of 
homesickness. 

O'Rourke,  in  the  company  of  an  officer,  was  waiting  for 
them  at  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  together  they  went  up  to 
the  staff  headquarters. 

Squatting  around  the  fire  were  the  orderlies,  who  jumped 
to  attention  when  a  middle-aged  officer  passed,  to  whom 
Athena  and  her  father  were  brought  and  who  proved  to  be  the 
commander. 

He  leaned  back  against  a  tree  and  listened  while  O'Rourke 
told  the  story.  He  was  tired  and  weary,  and  his  face  reflected 
the  strain  of  responsibility  and  the  debauchery  of  sleeplessness. 
His  uniform,  though  carefully  brushed,  showed  the  rough 
usage  of  the  field,  and  Athena  noticed  that  the  gold  embroidery 
of  his  collar  was  turned  over  and  broken. 

He  gritted  his  teeth  when  O'Rourke  told  how  they  had 
been  fired  upon,  and  the  steamer  shelled  and  destroyed. 

' '  Yes ! "  he  exclaimed.  ' '  That  is  the  warfare  of  those  cursed 
Serbs.  Warfare  against  the  neutral  and  the  defenseless;  but 
they  shall  be  punished.  They  shall  be  punished. ' ' 

He  pulled  out  a  cigarette  case  and  after  tendering  it  to  the 
others,  took  one,  lit  it  slowly,  and  then  smoked  in  quick  short 
puffs. 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  send  you  right  on  homeward; 
but  we  shall  need  all  our  horses  and  autos  today ;  however,  I  am 
sure  that  if  you  will  have  patience  until  after  the  battle  that 
with  what  we  take  from  the  enemy  there  will  still  be  transpor- 
tation provided  for  you. ' ' 

Ward  wondered  at  the  calm  deliberation  of  this  command- 
ing general ;  at  his  audacity  in  forecasting  for  himself  such  an 
easy  and  speedy  victory. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  general,  "at  all  events  we  can  send 
you  along  with  the  wounded." 

He  turned  and  ordered  that  coffee  be  brought  to  them, 
offered  his  coat  to  Athena  to  sit  upon,  and  while  they  con- 
tinued engaged  in  conversation,  a  voice,  speaking  apparent- 
ly from  the  ground,  in  a  deep  gutteral  German,  came  to 
them,  hoarse  and  rasping.  It  was  a  strange  hollow  toned 
voice,  yet  so  peremptory  and  commanding  that  even 

12 


180  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

Athena  stood  up  impulsively,  and  looking  down  a  few  feet 
beyond  her,  saw  a  man  flat  on  the  ground,  with  his  ear  to 
a  telephone  receiver. 

He  was  only  a  common  soldier,  with  the  cheaper  uni- 
form and  accouterments  of  an  enlisted  man,  but  what  he 
said  shot  a  new  life  into  the  wearied  face  of  the  general, 
who  rushed  forward  with  a  quick  command  which  came 
snapping  back  to  him  from  among  the  half  dozen  officers 
who  likewise  sprang  away  at  the  order. 

Jumping  into  his  saddle,  the  general  called  to  O'Rourke 
and  his  party: 

"I  will  send  back  a  guard  to  care  for  you,"  then  digging 
his  spurs  into  his  horse,  he  plunged  down  through  the  camp 
which,  as  by  magic,  became  the  scene  of  the  greatest  con- 
fusion, but  which,  after  a  few  moments,  resolved  itself  into 
compact  bodies  of  men  and  horses  and  field  pieces  grimly 
prepared  for  the  battle. 

"Evidently  they  have  decoyed  the  enemy  into  this  posi- 
tion and  are  ready  for  them,"  remarked  O'Rourke,  his  face 
showing  the  excited  pleasure  of  a  soldier's  instinct  in  the 
face  of  battle.  "You  will  be  perfectly  safe  here.  I — ,  I 
think  I  will  go  forward  with  them  to  watch  what  is  hap- 
pening. ' ' 

He  was  gone  before  Athena  could  utter  a  cry  of  pro- 
test. .  .  .  Already  she  heard  the  boom  of  cannon,  first  far 
away,  and  then  answered  back  by  the  crash  of  the  Austrian 
pieces.  Then  to  the  noise  was  added  the  din  of  machine 
guns  and  crack  of  musketry — ,  all  in  one  head  racking 
racket  that  kept  up  eternally.  She  was  hardly  conscious  of 
all  that  was  going  on  about  her.  Her  time-sense  was  all 
gone.  It  only  seemed  a  few  minutes  and  yet  the  whole 
scene  was  a  matter  of  hours,  with  so  many  dreadful  details 
that  she  only  had  a  passing  cognizance  of  them  as  they 
flew  along  like  a  dusty,  biting  wind — ,  just  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  a  part  of  a  single  happening  at  a  time.  .  .  .  But 
she  remembered  cursing  men,  working  at  cannon  stuck  in 
the  road;  the  lashing  of  horses  madly  straining  at  their 
harness — ,  the  rumble  of  rattling  limbers — ,  men  wounded 
dropping  down  with  their  hands  to  their  bodies  and  some 
with  their  heads  streaming  with  blood,  unmindful  of  the 
horses  about  them,  although  threatening  to  plunge  upon 
them  under  the  cruel  lashings.  .  .  .  Then  she  would  catch 
the  glimpse  of  flashing  swords  and  sharp  edged  whips,  which 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  GROUND  181 

cut  into  the  flesh  of  the  frightened  beasts  and  gasping  men, 
while  all  the  while  shells  were  bursting  and  guns  shook  tho 
ground  with  a  deafening  roar,  amid  yells,  curses  and 
piteous  calls.  .  .  .  The  shells  were  not  as  Athena  had 
imagined  them  to  be,  breaking  straight  out  in  all  directions 
like  rockets  in  mid  air,  but  shells  that  shot  out  like  a  broken 
pin  wheel's  sharp  and  fiery  edge,  glowing  in  the  daylight 
and  whose  separate  pieces  dropped  like  molten  iron  from 
the  sky  upon  the  bloody  earth,  areek  with  the  poison  of 
lyddite  gases. 

In  the  confusion,  she  found  herself,  with  her  father, 
standing  on  the  hillside,  held  spell-bound  by  a  tossing  mass 
that  came  on  like  the  regular  roll  of  a  wave — a  wave  of 
men  and  beasts  in  a  calvary  charge,  without  a  break  in  the 
line  of  horses'  heads  and  men's  bodies.  Then  suddenly 
there  was  a  deafening  crash,  .  .  .  the  ground  trembled,  and 
the  sky  groaned;  the  trees  staggered  before  her,  and  when 
she  looked  again  she  saw  that  the  wave  had  been  broken 
and  that  it  had  become  nothing  but  a  seething  mass  of  men 
and  beasts;  of  blanket  rolls  and  taut  drawn  bridles;  of 
bent  bodies  and  the  faces  of  terrified  men,  and  horses  in 
all  positions  of  straining  agony;  arms  upraised  and  lances 
thrown  down,  a  strange,  hideous  upheaval  that  staggered 
and  tumbled  about,  routed  and  disordered,  struggling  to 
break  back  upon  itself  while  all  the  while  the  shrapnel 
rained  its  iron  hail  of  death  upon  those  struggling  men  and 
beasts. 

Then  the  world  grew  red  and  black  before  her  and  the 
earth  sunk  and  rose  in  the  thunder  of  the  battle.  She 
wondered  why  they  still  bothered  with  those  tiny  swords 
and  rifles  when  the  big  guns  were  bringing  the  very  heavens 
down  upon  them. 

There  was  a  lull.  .  .  .  Everything  seemed  blurred  and 
confused.  All  the  trees  seemed  either  on  fire  or  smould- 
ering upward ;  the  branches  curling  aloft  like  smoke,  and  the 
wavering  landscape  splotched  with  men,  horses  or  cannon 
danced  before  her  fainting  senses,  like  the  spread  of  a  bloody 
blotch.  To  her  it  was  the  wildest  vertigo  of  a  hideous  nipH 
mare. 

Then  finally  she  remembered,  and  things  became  quieter, 
and  her  father's  face  at  length  appeared  more  clearly  before 
her.  .  .  .  Puzzled  she  looked  up  at  the  high  trunks  of 
the  trees  around  which,  about  a  man's  height,  green  painted 


182  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

canvas  had  been  stretched  to  screen  them  from  aeroplane 
observation.  She  reached  out  as  in  a  dream,  put  her  hands 
slowly  on  her  father's  shoulder  and  looked  into  his  eyes 
without  even  the  strength  to  whisper  a  word,  and  although 
she  knew  that  he  was  very  close  to  her,  his  voice  came 
from  afar — ,  from  very  far  away — ,  as  he  said: 

"It  is  over,  daughter.  The  battle  is  over.  The  Servians 
have  been  driven  off,  and  we  are  now  safe  back  here  in 
headquarters. ' ' 


Then  the  red  stream  commenced  to  pour  in.  At  first 
Athena  absolutely  refused  to  occupy  a  place  in  one  of  the 
automobiles,  saying  that  she  would  rather  walk  than  deprive 
a  wounded  man  of  his  right,  but  when  she  was  shown  that 
they,  the  wounded,  would  all  be  cared  for.  she  finally  con- 
sented, and  they  were  driven  twenty  miles  away  to  the 
nearest  railway  from  where,  after  a  long  night  and  day's 
journey,  but  in  comparative  comfort,  they  came  to  Buda- 
pest, whence  the  voyage  to  Vienna  was  easily  accomplished. 

A  munition  train  had  held  them  up  for  nearly  half  a  day 
in  a  little  village  or  rather  what  the  war  had  left  of  it.  They 
strolled  about  among  the  ruins.  The  village  had  been  de- 
serted— apparently  there  was  not  one  inhabitant  left — but 
as  they  came  through  to  a  garden  on  the  other  side  of  the 
long  line  of  broken  walls — they  heard  the  cry  of  a  babe 
coming  from  the  depths  of  a  cellar  and  beneath  the  trees 
beyond  saw  a  peasant  woman,  her  face  swollen  with  weeping, 
tenderly  laying  out  the  infant's  wash.  They  stopped  and 
talked  with  her,  and  Ward,  when  hp  was  shown  the  grave 
where  the  father  of  the  babe  had  been  buried  but  a  few 
days  before — shot  to  death  in  defending  his  home — ,  gave 
her  all  the  money  he  had  with  him. 

As  they  went  back  there  was  deep  emotion  in  "Ward's 
voice  when  he  said: 

"  Oh !  The  grief  of  that  peasant  mother.  It  is  such  as 
she  who  alone  repair  the  ravages  of  war.  With  her  face 
still  swollen  with  weeping  she  turns  from  her  soldier's  grave 


WITH  THE  WOUNDED  183 

to  the  cradle  of  his  child,  knowing  that  the  diaper  of  today 
will  change  to  war's  death  shroud  tomorrow." 

And  no  one  smiled  at  his  reference  to  the  diaper. 

The  first  thing  that  O'Rourke  did  at  Vienna  was  to  get 
in  communication  with  the  Prince.  ...  He  was  overjoyed 
to  find  that  he  would  have  an  immediate  opportunity  of 
seeing  Haiden,  who,  having  been  wounded  in  the  hottest 
part  of  the  Eastern  campaign,  was  confined  to  a  convent 
hospital  but  three  hours  by  express  from  Vienna. 

Ward  and  Athena  gladly  agreed  to  proceed  to  Berlin  by 
a  route  which  allowed  them  to  stop  off  and  see  the  Prince. 

They  came  to  the  old  hillside  convent,  now  all  converted 
into  a  hospital,  and  went  into  the  refectory  which  served 
as  a  waiting  room,  where  visitors  could  meet  those  of  the 
wounded  able  to  receive  callers.  They  hardly  recognized 
the  Prince  as  he  came  in  supported  by  an  orderly,  so  thin 
and  emaciated  was  he,  his  closely  cropped  hair  sharpening 
the  strength  of  his  features.  He  walked  slowly,  advancing 
step  by  step  with  painful  effort.  ...  As  he  came,  a  whisper 
from  one  of  the  nurses  betrayed  his  identity,  and  it  went 
about  from  one  to  another  around  the  great  room.  All 
silently  gazed  towards  him — nurses,  patients,  visitors — all 
looked  towards  the  slender  form,  with  the  princely  bearing, 
even  though  coming  forward  on  a  crutch. 

"The  Prince  of  Reisberg.  The  Prince  of  Reisberg.  .  .  . 
The  brave  defender  from  the  front,"  the  words  still  went 
whispering  around  the  room. 

As  he  came  out  of  the  aisle,  Athena,  her  father  and 
X)'Rourke  stood  waiting  to  receive  him.  His  face  was  very 
pale,  heightened  by  the  crimson  collar  of  his  dressing  gown, 
whose  tasseled  belt  swung  back  and  forth  as  he  came  for- 
ward. 

He  hobbled  over  on  his  crutch,  disengaged  one  hand  that 
he  might  reach  it  out  to  them,  and  looking  long  and  deeply 
at  Athena,  he  said: 

"I  am  glad  that  you  have  come.  You  are  among  the  first 
that  I  have  seen." 

They  stood  before  a  fireplace,  upon  whose  shelf  was  a 
bank  of  flowers.  His  nostrils  dilated  as  he  turned  for  a 
moment  and  breathed  in  their  fragrance. 

"It  seems  good  to  be  alive,"  he  remarked.  "To  be  alive 
and  still  have  one's  senses — ,  all  of  them — ,  all  five — ,  to 
enjoy  the  whole  beauty  of  life." 


184  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

They  were  silent,  for  they  understood  as  they  looked 
about  and  saw  the  wounded,  bandaged  heads,  robbed  of  one, 
and  sometimes  two  of  those  precious  senses. 

"There  is  so  much  that  I  want  to  hear  from  each  one  of 
you,"  remarked  the  Prince,  in  the  same  sweet,  musical  voice, 
though  it  was  more  measured  and  settled  now.  "You  are 
like  medicine  to  me — ,  medicine  that  comes  from  the  pleasant 
remembrances  of  the  past.  And  I  need  medicine,"  he  con- 
tinued, "for  I  want  to  be  healed  quickly  that  I  may  go  back 
to  the  command. ' ' 

"What!"  exclaimed  Athena.  "Would  you  ever  think  of 
returning  to  fight  again?  To  again  fight  when  you  have 
already  been  so  grievously  wounded?" 

The  Prince  looked  at  her.  Then  he  held  his  brow  higher. 
There  was  a  cold  gleam  in  his  eyes  and  his  voice  came  intoned 
like  the  crack  of  a  command: 

"I  will  never  be  happy  until  Germany's  enemies  are 
crushed.  Why  should  I  not  fight  as  long  as  life  is  left  me?" 

As  he  spoke,  Athena  drew  back,  for  it  seemed  as  though 
something  cruel  had  stamped  itself  on  that  noble  face.  The 
eyes  no  longer  gleamed  out  the  soft  ecstacy  of  the  poet. 
The  close  cropped  hair  showed  straight  up,  convict-like,  over 
his  high  brow  and  his  glance  was  that  of  a  challenging  sentry 
ready  to  fire. 

She  saw  and  was  horrified,  for  with  her  woman's  instinct, 
she  divined  the  reason,  although  still  unwilling  to  believe. 
Long  she  gazed  into  his  face,  gathering  every  detail  of  the 
firmly  pressed  lips,  and  the  hard  passive  immobile  cast  of 
that  countenance  which,  before,  had  been  to  her  lighted 
with  the  full  courage  of  the  highest  thoughts  of  the  Master. 

She  wondered  if  it  were  true  that  they  had  ever  stood 
together  in  the  garden. 

She  bowed  her  head  to  shut  out  thp  transformation  of  the 
man.  She  wondered  and  then  reflected  with  a  shudder : 

"  'Tis  this  war — ,  this  brutal  war — ,  and  the  blood  that 
he  has  shed  and  given  which  has  changed  him.  It  is  the 
penalty  of  warfare  racked  through  his  mind  and  body,  rob- 
bing him  of  his  calm  content." 

Ward  looked  at  his  daughter  and  read  in  her  eyes  the 
story  of  her  awakening,  and  in  the  embarrassed  moment 
which  followed,  said: 

"We  have  brought  some  flowers  for  our  friend.  Shall  I 
go  and  have  the  man  bring  them?" 


WITH  THE  WOUNDED  185 

"Yes,"  responded  Athena,  and  glad  at  the  opportunity 
to  get  away,  added: 

"I  will  go  with  you." 

When  they  had  gone  the  Prince  drew  O'Rourke  aside  and 
whispered : 

"And  this  Magnus — why  has  he  come  along  with  the 
party?" 

"Magnus?"  exclaimed  O'Rourke  in  a  tone  full  of  sur- 
prise. "Magnus?  Why,  I  have  heard  nothing  of  him  since 
he  left  Constantinople  absconding  with  the  money  of  Mr. 
Ward,  and  even  having  his  yacht  commandeered,  after  he 
had  put  me  in  the  prison  from  which  you  released  me." 

The  Prince's  face  took  on  a  troubled,  puzzled  look. 

"But  he  is  here,"  he  asserted.  "He  is  here  now,  waiting 
to  see  me,  for  see,  he  has  sent  in  his  card.  ...  It  came»  at 
the  same  time  as  yours,  but  T  could  hardlv  believe  that  you 
could  really  be  together.  Th.p  scoundrel!"  he  continued 
clinching  his  crutch  under  his  arm.  "On  mv  first  visit  to 
headquarters  I  will  have  him  punished  for  your  wicked  arrest 
as  well  as  that  of  the  Count." 

The  two  had  drawn  aside  into  a  lobby  to  free  the  passage- 
way for  the  visitors  coming  and  going.  At  length  they 
stood  quite  alone,  with  the  door  ajar,  concealing  them  from 
observation  without. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened  wider  and  the  two  started  back 
as  a  ponderous  figure,  the  great  form  of  Magnus  himself 
stood  before  them.  .  .  .  He  was  in  «  fioid  service  uniform  as 
an  Austrian  colonel  and  his  cloak  thrown  back  over  his 
shoulders  broadened  his  massive  chest  with  its  lines  of 
shining  buttons  and  golden  braid.  His  service  cap  was 
fitted  down  over  his  head,  giving  him  a  war-like,  martial 
appearance.  After  the  first  few  steps  forward,  he  stood 
gazing  at  the  Prince.  Then  his  eyes  shot  out  toward 
O'Rourke  as  if  not  understanding  the  reason  of  his  pres- 
ence, .  .  .  and  he  threw  his  legs  somewhat  apart  as  though 
preparing  to  ward  off  a  blow  in  his  own  defense.  His 
hand  fell  upon  his  sabre.  ...  It  jangled  harshly  and  there 
was  defiance  in  his  eyes  as  he  still  gazed  towards  O'Rourke. 
The  Prince,  straightening  up  with  the  quickness  of  a 
panther,  crashed  his  crutch  down  over  the  head  of  Magnus, 
and  sent  him  reeling  to  the  floor,  the  door  slamming  be- 
hind him  in  his  fall  as  he  struck  against  it. 

"By  God,  I'll  flay  you,  you  reptile!     You  dare  to  face 


186  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

me?"  and  infuriated  with  the  sight  of  the  blood  streaming 
from  the  face  of  Magnus,  he  struck  at  him  again  and  again. 
Magnus  raised  himself  up  on  one  elbow,  and  took  the 
blows  as  they  came  without  flinching,  with  not  a  motion  in 
his  own  defense,  until  raising  his  eyes,  as  the  Prince  re- 
gained his  balance,  he  said  in  a  tone  which  came  to 
O'Rourke  like  a  sob: 

"It  is  well — strike.     The  punishment  is  just." 
"What!"  cried  the  Prince.     "You  confess?" 
Magnus  let  his  face  drop  down  upon  his  arm,  his  sabre 
gleaming  out  before  him,   spotted   with  his   own  spattered 
blood.      He   looked  upwards   towards  the  Prince   long   and 
steadfastly — ,  an  appeal  of  tenderness  welling  up  with  the 
tears   in   his   eyes — ,   tenderness  such    as   one   would   never 
look  for  in  his  cruel  features,  tenderness  such  as  came  in 
the  dream  smile  that  flitted  over  his  face  as  he  slept  on  the 
way  to  Vienna. 

"Yes,"  he  murmured  in  a  choked  voice.  "Yes,  I  con- 
fess— ,  I  confess,"  the  voice  sounded  deep  and  despairing, 
and  then  rose  like  a  prayer  for  forgiveness. 

"Yes.  T  confess  that  T  am  thy  father — thy  father  who. 
though  unworthy  of  his  son,  loves  thee. " 


XXVI 
A  FATHER'S  LOVE 

Athena  and  her  father  never  knew  anything  of  the  story 
that  the  Prince  confided  to  O'Rourke  after  Magnus  had 
gone;  in  fact;  the  whole  affair  had  happened  so  quickly 
that  they  never  knew  that  Magnus  had  come,  although  they 
wondered,  when  they  returned  with  the  flowers,  why  the 
Prince  and  O'Rourke  should  have  kept  them  waiting  so 
long. 

It  was  only  after  O'Rourke  had  escorted  Ward  and  his 
daughter  back  to  the  hotel  that  he,  returning  to  sit  by  the 
hospital  cot  of  the  Prince,  heard  in  a  low  whispered  voice, 
sometimes  broken  by  the  excitement  and  weakness  of  exer- 
tion, the  story  which  had  finally  found  its  climax  that  day 
in  the  first  conscious  meeting  of  father  and  son. 

"Our  nobility  must  seem  a  peculiar  thing  to  you  Arneri- 


A  FATHER'S  LOVE  187 

cans,"  confided  the  Prince.  "I  don't  suppose  that  in  your 
country  such  a  thing  as  a  man  going  a  whole  life  time  with- 
out actually  knowing  his  own  father  could  ever  hap- 
pen. .  .  .  But,  you  see,  my  mother  experienced  something 
which  rarely  occurs  among  us — ,  an  elopement,"  he 
sighed.  .  .  .  "She  ran  away  with  my  father,  a  young 
Austrian  lieutenant,  who,  although  of  a  nohle  family  him- 
self, was  not,  by  my  grandparents,  considered  in  her  cate- 
gory. ...  So  they  separated  them,  even  before  I  was  born 
and  I  grew  up,  never  knowing  and  never  really  thinking 
that  T  needed  a  father.  My  mother,  as  the  only  child,  of 
course  made  me  the  heir  to  the  Principality,  and  it  was  only 
when  I  was  out  of  the  University  and  an  officer  in 
the  army,  that  I  heard  from  my  grandfather's  own  lips 
how  my  father  was  not  dead,  as  I  had  supposed,  but  was 
still  lingering  around  the  Court  of  Vienna  and,  as  my 
grandfather  put  it,  'did  not  enjoy  a  noble's  good  repu- 
tation.' ...  So  although  I  knew  that  my  father  was  living, 
T  was  much  ashamed  of  him,  and  always  dreaded  meeting 
him  or  knowing  anything  about  him." 

He  turned  wearily  over  on  his  pillow  and  said,  as  though 
to  himself: 

"But  I  am  sorry — ,  now  I  am  sorry  that  I  struck 
him.  ...  I  would  never  have  done  it  had  I  known." 

O'Rourke  hardly  knew  what  to  say.  It  all  seemed  to  be 
so  incredible.  There  was  nothing1  with  which  he  could  com- 
pare it  in  his  whole  adventurous  life.  .  .  . 

The  Prince  reached  over  and  picked  up  one  of  the  long 
stemmed  roses  from  the  night  table  by  his  side — ,  one  of  the 
roses  which  Athena  had  brought  him. 

Deeply  he  breathed  in  the  fragrance,  and  as  his  eyes 
slowly  opened,  O'Rourke  saw  the  sweet  radiant  light  of  the 
poet  again  showing  from  their  depths. 

"Ah,  I  understand  it  all  now,"  said  the  Prince  dreamily. 
"Tt  comes  to  me  as  deep  as  the  color  and  the  fragrance  of 
this  rose.  I  know  why  now — ,  my — ,  my — ,  father  .... 
sought  the  Albanian  throne  for  me.  Tt  was  to  right  a  wrong 
— a  wrong  which  he  had  done  my  mother  and  a  wrong  which 
he  has  done  to  himself  all  these  years — ,  a  wrong  which  he 
thought  he  could  right  in  an  exercise  of  a  father's  love." 

"lrou  are  right — you  are  right,"  said  O'Rourke,  deeply 
moved  by  the  mentai  attitude  expressed  in  the  language  and 
manner  of  the  Prince.  "And  after  all,"  he  added,  encour- 


188  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

agingly,  "your — ,  your  father  has  not  harmed  any  one  very 
much,  for  the  money  lost  by  Colonel  Ward  of  course  means 
nothing  to  him,  and  the  other  injustice  was  corrected." 

"It  is  kind  of  you,"  returned  the  Prince.  "Do  you  know, 
all  these  years  I  have  apotheosized  the  love  of  mother  for 
child,  but  I  never  knew  before  of  this  great  love  of  father 
for  son." 

The  words  were  spoken  so  tenderly — so  sweetly  that  they 
harmonized,  it  seemed  to  O'Rourke,  with  the  color  and 
fragrance  of  the  roses  as  the  Prince  gathered  them  slowly 
up  over  his  breast.  Tears  came  to  the  eyes  of  both,  when 
O'Rourke  said: 

"Yes,  but  it  is  in  the  Bible.  It  is  in  the  Bible — that  story 
of  a  father's  love  for  his  son." 


XXVII 
TO  NEUTRAL  LAND 

It  was  getting  well  along  towards  the  Christmas  tide ;  the 
season  of  "peace  on  earth,"  but  war  was  raging  on  the 
battlefield  in  Flanders,  on  the  front  of  Alsace-Lorraine  at 
the  approaches  of  Cracow  and  way  down  and  up  the  hun- 
dreds of  miles  of  battle  front  stretched  out  in  the  cam- 
paigns of  the  East  and  the  "West. 

But  to  Athena  and  her  father  everything  seemed  in  Ger- 
many itself  almost  about  as  usual;  the  trains  ran  on 
schedule  time;  the  hotels  and  restaurants,  shops  and  fac- 
tories were  all  open,  and  they  never  could  have  believed 
that  they  were  in  the  bumper  land  of  the  world's  great 
war  had  it  not  been  for  the  occasional  march  of  troops  to 
the  front  or  a  train  full  of  wounded  littered  back  home. 

But  one  day  while  Athena  and  her  father  and  O'Rourke 
were  looking  down  from  the  hotel  window  into  the  court 
beneath,  they  saw  an  old  German  type  seated  at  an  iron 
table  eagerly  scanning  a  paper.  Suddenly  he  dropped  it  to 
the  ground  and  sat  with  face  set  firm  staring  out  vacantly 
before  him.  A  trim,  little  figure  approached  with  a  coffee 
service. 

"Looks  as  though  he  had  some  bad  news,"  remarked 
Ward  as  he  watched  the  old  German  slowly  pick  up  the 


TO  NEUTRAL  LAND  189 

paper  and  then  look  pathetically  toward  the  young  woman 
with  the  coffee. 

"Yes,"  returned  Athena,  with  the  tears  already  in  her 
eyes.  "The  chambermaid  told  me  all  about  them.  It's  con- 
firmation of  the  news  of  the  death  of  his  last  son— there 
were  four  of  them,  all  killed  in  battle — and  now  he  has 
only  that  daughter  left.  See,  how  she  tries  to  avoid  hearing 
the  news  and  how  he  hesitates  to  tell  her." 

Ward's  eyes  moistened  and  then  he  said: 

"I  wish  that  they  would  put  all  these  kings  in  a  forty 
acre  lot  and  let  them  fight  it  out  among  themselves." 

It  was  such  incidents  as  these  that  made  Athena  and  her 
father  yearn  more  and  more  for  America,  their  land  of 
peace,  and  they  looked  to  O'Rourke  to  lead  them  there,  for 
he  had  seemed  to  become  such  a  part  of  each  of  their  lives 
that  they  did  not  know  how  to  get  along  without  him. 

In  neutral  Holland  they  took  a  channel  steamer  to  go 
over  to  England,  for  they  were  booked  to  ship  from  South- 
ampton. It  was  a  night  sailing.  After  a  comfortable 
dinner  the  three  strolled  out  on  deck  to  enjoy  the  twang  of 
the  December  shore  air,  as  in  a  delicious  blend  it  mellowed 
itself  into  an  inspiriting  breath  with  the  salt  spray  of  the 
sea. 

Finally  Ward,  excusing  himself,  went  to  retire,  leaving 
Athena  and  O'Rourke  to  talk  undisturbed,  and  for  the  first 
time  since  they  had  stood  at  the  temple  of  the  Winged  Victory 
at  Athens. 

"How  good  you  have  been  to  us,"  remarked  Athena. 

"Ah,  no,"  he  protested.  "Little  have  I  done  to  repay 
the  benefactions  of  your  father,  the  benefactions  which  I 
confided  to  you  on  the  Acropolis." 

The  mention  of  the  glorious  citadel  brought  to  their 
minds  the  setting  of  that  wonderful  scene  of  their  first  sen- 
timental expressions,  if  such  they  could  be  called.  .  .  . 
Both  in  their  memory  again  saw  the  little  temple  with  its 
fluted  columns  and  broken  pediments,  but  all  aglow  with 
the  sunshine  and  the  rosy  golden  touch  which  time  alone 
paints  upon  the  face  of  marble.  Again  they  saw  the  sea — 
the  winding  roads  and  the  sapphire  edge  of  the  mountains 
beyond  the  green  fields. 

"Do  you  know,"  confided  Athena,  "you  have  not  told 
us  any  of  your  plans.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are 
returning  with  us  to  America." 


190  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"To  America?"  he  questioned  absent-mindedly,  and  then 
as  if  with  a  clearer  thought,  said: 

"I  am  afraid  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  I  can  get  back 
to  the  dear  land  of  my  longing." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Athena.  "You  mean  to  say  that 
you  intend  to  leave  my  father  before  the  voyage  is  done, 
and — ,  ..."  she  paused,  fearful  of  what  she  might  say. 

"But  my  duty — ,  my  labor  is  here,"  he  exclaimed.  "One 
cannot  always  choose  his  place  of  residence  any  more  than 
he  can  choose  his  associates." 

"But  you  seem  to  do  the  latter,"  protested  Athena,  inno- 
cent of  any  intention  of  bantering. 

The  ship  was  almost  entirely  in  darkness  and  there  was 
barely  enough  light  from  the  stars  to  make  out  the  cameo 
lines  of  her  features,  until  slowly,  beyond  them  the  drift 
of  the  new  moon  trickled  over  the  waters,  betraying  the 
deep  earnestness  upon  the  faces  of  both. 

"But  we  shall  be  so  sorry  to  have  you  go,"  persisted 
Athena.  "You  have  become,  well — ,  ...  as  it  were,  a  sort 
of  a  member  of  our  family."  In  a  moment  she  regretted 
the  utterance. 

A  couple  of  seamen,  pulling  and  winding  upon  a  hawser, 
brought  the  two  closer  together.  She  felt  offended,  when 
after  the  rope  had  been  drawn  in  and  the  men  had  gone,  that 
he  drew  down  farther  on  the  railing  upon  which  they  were 
leaning,  and  away  from  her 

"Have  you  said  anything  to  my  father  about  your 
deserting  us?"  she  at  length  asked. 

"No,"  and  the  tone  of  his  voice  to  her  was  like  heavy 
lead,  "for  we  will  yet  be  some  little  time  together  and  then, 
besides,  I  hardly  know  what  I  am  going  to  do.  I  have 
some  war  material  here  which  I  might  work  up  into  a  book, 
or  perhaps  my  paper  will  want  to  send  me  to  try  a  chance 
upon  the  battlefields,  although  it  looks  as  if  there  will  be 
no  war  corresponding  in  this  great  contest." 

She  felt  rebellious.  ...  It  did  not  seem  right  for  him  to 
make  his  plans  so  absolutely  independent  of  her  own. 

For  a  long  time  they  stood  together  in  silence,  each 
looking  at  the  cradle  mantle  of  the  new  born  moon  as  it. 
trailed  down  over  the  sea. 

"  It  is  rather  windy  for  you  here,  is  it  not  ? "  he  remarked. 
"Perhaps  it  is  too  cold  for  you  to  remain  on  deck." 

"Ah,  no,"  she  returned.     "It  is  too  early  yet  to  go  into 


TO  NEUTRAL  LAND  191 

the  stuffy  cabin.  .  .  .  Come,"  she  bantered  gaily.  "I  saw 
a  cozy  corner  underneath  the  Captain's  bridge,  and  we  can 
watch  the  moon  from  there." 

Together  they  walked  down  to  the  corner  of  the  deserted 
deck,  where  there  was  just  room  enough  for  the  two  chairs. 

"See!"  she  continued  gaily.  "Evidently  they  have  re- 
served it  just  for  us." 

O'Rourke  rang  for  the  deck  steward  to  go  and  get  the 
blankets  and  then  after  he  had  tucked  her  cozily  in,  seated 
himself. 

"I  used  to  think  that  the  joker  who  always  remarks  in 
a  dead  silence,  'Now,  don't  everybody  speak  at  once,'  was 
a  nuisance,  but  somehow  now  I  would  think  the  remark 
would  seem  almost  appropriately  humorous,"  she  com- 
menced. 

O'Rourke  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  she  asked. 

"I  hardly  believe  that  you  would  call  it  'thinking,'  "  he 
responded.  "I  was  just  trying  to  get  a  thought  started 
some  way.  I  don't  seem,  however,  to  get  onto  any  pivot 
to  make  a  thought  balance." 

"But,  you  who  make  a  business  of  thinking  and  recording 
your  thoughts  in  print  should  never  have  any  trouble  in 
getting  your  thoughts  started,"  she  remarked,  somewhat 
surprised  at  the  familiar  tone  she  was-  assuming  even  in 
spite  of  herself. 

He  folded  his  hands  and  then  at  length  said  in  an  ap- 
parently inappropriate  fashion,  not  heeding  her  previous 
remark : 

"You  see,  I  have  had  a  rather  long  play  time,  more  than  a 
working  man  should  ever  take,  for  you  know  that  playing 
always  means  paying  the  fiddler  when  the  jig  is  danced." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"No,"  he  returned.  "By  your  fortunate  position  as  the 
daughter  of  one  of  the  richest  men  of  the  world  of  course 
it,  will  be  hard  for  you  to  understand  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  a  man  being  'broke' — .  flat  broke." 

"Oh,  money — ,  mere  money,"  returned  Athena.  "Why 
should  such  a  horrid  thing  be  ever  mentioned?" 

"I  merely  mentioned  it  in  self-defense,"  said  O'Rourke, 
with  a  quicker  utterance.  "TWPTISP  T  would  not  have  you 
think  that  I  would  let  you  and  your  father  go  on  home  alono 
together  were  it  not  that  I  am  now  absolutely  penniless," 
and  he  laughed  as  if  the  confession  pleased  him. 


192  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"But  my  father  will  give  you  all  the  money  you  want," 
urged  Athena. 

"Yes,  I  know  it,"  returned  O'Rourke.  "But  I  would 
never  take  it.  ...  All  these  years  I  have  been  receiving  his 
benefactions  and  accumulating  money  indebtedness  to  him 
which,  from  my  viewpoint,  can  only  be  paid  back  in  like." 

She  lifted  up  her  gloved  hand  protestingly,  but  he  still 
went  on. 

"Yes.  Independence  in  money  matters  has  been  the  de- 
light of  my  life  and  my  indebtedness  to  your  father  in  his 
benefactions  has  actually  worried  me  for  years.  .  .  .  Now, 
I  have  figured  out,"  and  he  bent  forward,  eager  to  give  her 
his  confidence.  "I  have  figured  out  that  the  mere  money 
value  of  what  your  father  has  done  for  me  equals  just  about 
what  I  paid  for  the  .iourney  from  Constantinople  :here  with 
the  chartering  of  the  steamer.  ...  At  least,"  and  he 
laughed  again,  "I  hope  it  is  enough — ,  for  those  twenty 
thousand  dollars  were  all  I  had  in  the  whole  world." 

"What!"  she  exclaimed.  "You  mean  to  say  that  you, 
yourself,  have  paid  for  the  expense  of  this  voyage?" 

"Why  certainly.    You  both  came  with  me  as  my  guests." 

"But  my  father — ,  yes,  and  I — ,  I  will  never  permit  it," 
she  declared. 

"As  the  Turks  say:  'What  is,  must  be,'  and  every  man 
has  a  right  to  acquit  himself  of  his  obligations." 

She  leaned  over  and  placed  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"But  for  me — ,  for  my  sake — ,  you  will  permit  it,  won't 
you?  Of  course,  between  us — ,  between  you  and  me — ,  that 
is,  between  you  and  my  father,  there  can  be  no  question  of 
money,  for  it  is  there — ,  and  it  is  yours,  all  that  you  may 
want  of  it,"  and  she  leaned  towards  him  until  he  felt  her 
breath  faintly  playing  upon  his  cheek. 

For  some  reason  which  neither  of  them  could  ever  have 
explained,  in  a  moment  they  both  found  themselves  standing, 
at  first  side  by  side,  then  she  facing  him,  nervously  pulling 
at  her  gloves. 

"Will  you  not  do  it? — ,  do  it  for  my  sake — ,  just  for 
me,  and  come  home  with  us,"  and  again  her  hand,  now 
ungloved,  sought  his  arm. 

' '  Ah ! "  he  exclaimed  as  he  looked  at  her,  a  new  light 
dawning  upon  him.  "How  greatly  I  should  love  to.  ... 
But  I  cannot — ,  I  cannot — ,  for  it  is  only  here  in  this  war 
country  that  I  can  best  meet  the  needs  of  my  wife." 


A  DECK  CONFIDENCE  193 

"What!"  she  exclaimed.  "You — ,  you  are  married? 
Yoii  are  married  f  ..." 

Then  everything  swam  before  her  and  she  reached  out 
her  hand  to  steady  herself. 


XXVIII 
A  DECK  CONFIDENCE 

They  had  quite  a  little  trouble  the  next  morning  in 
docking  at  Tillsbury,  but  after  O'Rourke  had  put  the  bag- 
gage through  the  customs,  going  back  on  to  the  ship,  Ward 
approached,  saying: 

"My  daughter  is  not  feeling  well.  ...  I  wish  to  have  a 
special  train  service  for  her  if  possible.  It  will  be  best  for 
her  to  remain  upon  the  boat  until  I  can  get  the  nurses 
for  whom  the  ship's  surgeon  has  already  sent.  If  you  will 
arrange  for  that  I  will  go  and  remain  with  her  for  she  is 
almost  hysterical.  .  .  .  Poor  girl,  a  sort  of  nervous  break- 
down such  as  I  never  knew  her  to  have  before." 

O'Rourke  went  to  arrange  for  the  special  train  and  re- 
turning in  half  an  hour  found  the  old  man  pacing  the  deck 
dejectedly. 

"My  daughter  has  told  me  all,  O'Rourke,"  he  exclaimed. 
"Told  me  all  about  you  not  wanting  to  continue  with  us 
because  of  a  mere  matter  of  money.  Of  course,  I  know  just 
how  you  feel,  for  you  are  a  man  after  my  own  heart." 

O'Rourke 's  face  brightened. 

"Yes,  all  that  sort  of  thing  could  be  arranged  even  if 
you  have  a  wife,  although,  of  course,  we  cannot  take  you 
from  her.  By  the  way,  Sally  seems  to  have  taken  it  for 
granted  that  you  were  a  bachelor,  although  I  knew  to  the 
contrary.  Where  is  your  wife?" 

"In  Paris,"  simply  responded  O'Rourke,  "the  last  time 
I  heard  from  her,  at  least  that  is  where  I  have  been  sending 
the  remittances. 

"Yes,"  said  Ward,  sitting  down  and  crossing  his  long 
legs.  "I  know.  Well,  why  not  bring  her  along  too?" 

Two  or  three  men  came  hurrying  up  the  gangway. 

"I  think  that's   'im,  sir.     I  think  that's  Mr.  O'Rourke," 


194  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

they  heard  a  steward  say  as  he  showed  the  newcomers  where 
Ward  and  O'Rourke  were  standing. 

The  three  men  bolted  forward,  each  one  extending  a  card 
at  the  same  time,  and  commencing  a  volley  of  questions. 

They  were  newspaper  reporters  and  had  scant  time  to  get 
their  story  ready  for  the  first  edition. 

One  of  them,  as  if  to  establish  his  prior  claim  to  the 
interview,  extended  O'Rourke  a  copy  of  the  paper  which  he 
represented.  .  .  .  Unfolding  it,  O'Rourke  was  surprised  to 
see  his  own  picture  on  the  front  page.  Looking  at  the  date 
he  saw  that  the  paper  was  a  month  old,  and  underneath  the 
headlines,  he  read  as  follows: 

"Paris,  France. — Timothy  O'Rourke,  well  known  Ameri- 
can author,  has  just  been  divorced  in  Paris  on  the  ground 
of  desertion  by  the  star  prima  donna,  Mabelle  Sanson  of 
the  Grand  Opera.  Her  marriage  to  the  millionaire  Brazilian 
diamond  king,  Dom  Pedro  Araldo,  followed  the  granting  of 
the  decree. 

' '  Default  was  taken  against  Mr.  0  'Rourke  upon  the  ground 
that  he  had  deserted  his  wife  and  become  a  war  correspond- 
ent with  the  Germans." 

"Well,"  smiled  O'Rourke,  looking  up  at  the  reporters. 
"This  certainly  is  news  to  me,  although  it  seems  to  be  a 
month  old." 

"Yes,"  remarked  the  cub  reporter,  trying  to  draw 
O'Rourke  aside  and  greatly  pleased  at  the  advantage  which 
he  thought  he  had  obtained.  "Yes,  I  knew  that  you  would 
never  get  any  of  our  papers  over  in  Germany,  so  I  brought 
that  along  especially  for  you,  and  if  you  only  give  me  a  scoop 
interview,  we  will  feature  it  for  today's  edition." 

O'Rourke  laughed. 

"What  do  you  want  to  know?" 

"I  want  to  know  if  you  will  contest  the  divorce,  together 
with  any  other  inside  facts  which  you  may  care  to  give  me." 

Ward  himself  was  highly  amused  at  the  antics  of  the  re- 
porters who,  pencil  and  paper  in  hand,  were  shuttling  in 
and  out  before  O'Rourke.  But  O'Rourke  said  solemnly: 

"Ordinarily  a  man  who  has  been  amiably  separated  from 
his  wife  for  two  years  and  who  has  done  nothing  but  attend 
to  the  mere  details  of  forwarding  allowances  is  not  in  a 
position  to  contest  any  of  her  wishes." 

After  a  few  minutes  of  useless  questioning,  the  newspaper 


"Oh*!    The  grief  of  that  peasant  mother.     It  is  such  as  she  who  alone  repair 
the  ravages  of  war.     With  her  face  still  swollen  with  weeping  she  turns  from 


FOR  OLD  GLORY  195 

men    scampered   down   the   gangway   to   manufacture   their 
story. 

"Well,"  remarked  the  old  man  with  a  broad  smile  as  he 
placed  his  hand  on  O'Rourke's,  "things  do  move  around 
pretty  quickly  in  this  whirligig  world." 


XXIX 
FOR  OLD  GLORY 

After  O'Rourke  left  them  at  the  train,  he  did  not  tell 
Athena  nor  her  father  where  he  was  lodging,  merely  giving 
them  a  newspaper  address  in  case  they  needed  him  before  the 
sailing. 

Neither  he  nor  Athena  dared  look  at  each  other,  although 
Athena  had  wondrously  recovered  from  her  nervous  at- 
tack as  soon  as  her  father  had  told  her  of  the  episode  of 
O'Rourke's  divorce. 

The  old  man,  when  they  were  installed  in  their  hotel,  com- 
plained of  having  the  chills  and  retired  early  that  evening, 
sending  word  to  his  daughter  the  next  morning  that  he 
felt  tired,  and  thought  that  he  would  keep  to  the  bed  for  a 
few  hours.  Athena  went  to  see  him  and  became  alarmed 
at  the  unnatural  brilliancy  of  the  eyes  and  the  hectic  flush 
on  his  cheeks. 

The  doctor  came. 

"Just  a  nervous  fever,"  he  said  reassuringly.  "But  when 
one  is  old  no  chances  should  be  taken.  You  had  better  delay 
your  sailing  until  he  has  fully  recovered.  It  may  be  some 
time. ' ' 

"Daughter,"  remarked  the  old  man  cheerily.  "As  long 
as  we've  got  to  stay  here  in  London,  please  see  that 
O'Rourke  stays  here  too  for  awhile,  since  I  may  need  him." 

Athena  penned  a  note,  very  formal,  at  first  written  in 
the  third  person,  but  finally  thawed  out  to  a  mere  simple 
request  for  O'Rourke  to  call  on  her  father.  She  hardly 
knew  how  she  did  feel  towards  O'Rourke  but  was  sorely 
wounded  with  the  thought  that  he  had  no  right  to  let  her 
remain  in  ignorance  of  his  marriage.  Of  course,  being 
divorced  now  made  some  difference.  .  .  .  But  what  sort  of 
a  difference?  .  .  .  Then  arguing  with  herself,  she  reflected 
excusingly : 

13 


196  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"But  such  a  wonderful  man.  .  .  .  He  never  communi- 
cates information  unless  he  is  asked,  and  absent-minded  as 
he  is,  he  gave  it  of  course,  under  the  circumstances,  no 
thought.  And  after  all,  what  affair  is  it  to  me?  ...  ' 

Then  her  woman's  dignity  asserted  itself.  She  felt 
ashamed  that  she  had  shown  herself  to  be  so  weak  in  her 
attitude  towards  him.  But  perhaps  after  all  he  had  not 
divined. 

O'Rourke  came.  ...  It  was  afternoon  and  he  wore  the 
top  hat  and  frock  coat  of  conventional  afternoon  London. 
She  thought  she  had  never  seen  anyone  so  handsome,  .  .  .  but 
looked  at  him  coldly,  hardly  acknowledging  his  greeting  and 
withdrawing  her  hand  quickly,  almost  as  she  extended  it  to 
him. 

O'Rourke  spent  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  with  the  old 
man.  It  was  arranged  to  delay  the  sailing  for  a  full  week. 

Finally  Ward  commenced  abruptly: 

"O'Rourke,  ...  I  have  a  great  work  for  you — ,  a  work 
such  as  never  before  has  been  efficiently  undertaken.  .  .  . 
It  is  a  great  American  work  to  be  done  for  the  great  Ameri- 
can people,  and  a  labor  so  difficult  that  I  know  of  only  one 
man  who  can  carry  it  to  fulfillment. ' '  He  paused  and  looked 
long  at  O'Rourke.  "That  man — ,  that  man  is  you." 

O'Rourke  started  and  then  wondered  if  Ward  could  not 
be  a  little  out  of  his  head  with  his  illness.  Then  he  cour- 
teously inclined  his  head  and  listened. 

"O'Rourke,"  continued  Ward.  "I  knew  your  father  and 
your  mother  as  children  and  I  have  known  you  from  your 
babyhood  up.  I  am  getting  old  and  even  were  I  young  would 
not  have  the  ability  to  carry  on  this  work.  .  .  .  I — ,  I  have 
merely  money,  but  you  have  the  soul  to  make  the  flesh  of 
this  work  speak  so  that  the  whole  nation  will  hear.  Now, 
do  not  fail  me  I  beg  you — ,  do  not  fail  me." 

"I  shall  always  be  glad  to  serve  you,"  returned  O'Rourke, 
his  interest  thoroughly  awakened. 

"Well,  this  is  a  work,"  continued  the  old  man,  "that  I 
have  been  thinking  of  ever  since  the  war  broke  out  here  in 
Europe.  .  .  .  Nations  are  still  born  of  war,  grow  great  by 
war  and  die  by  war.  We  have  got  into  the  American  fashion 
of  late,  of  thinking  that  our  great  country  is  especially  and 
forever  exempt  from  the  danger  of  war.  We  feel  our- 
selves in  the  position  of  the  good  man  dispensing  charity, 
who  does  not  understand  why  anyone  should  want  to  rob 


FOR  OLD  GLORY  197 

him.  But  war  will  come  to  us  and  the  time  to  prepare  for 
war  is  in  a  time  of  peace.  We  do  not  want  war:  I  don't 
believe  that  any  country  really  ever  wanted  war,  but  war 
comes  whether  it  is  wanted  or  not,  and  the  nation  wins  that 
prepares. ' ' 

O'Rourke  nodded  approvingly. 

"Yes.  You  understand  me.  That's  the  reason  I  am 
telling  you.  But  too  many  of  us  Americans  believe  that 
just  because  we  want  to  do  what  is  right  that  the  whole 
world  will  treat  us  right.  But  that  is  not  so.  ...  Inter- 
national law  has  not  proceeded  very  far  along  the  lines  of 
justice.  In  war,  justice  means  the  power  to  kill,  to  destroy, 
to  conquer." 

"Yes,  you  are  right,"  approved  O'Rourke.  "Inter- 
national law  is  a  mere  scape-goat,  as  a  rule  of  action 
governing  the  nations  which  claim  to  adhere  to  it.  It  is 
naught.  What  is  the  Hague  .conference  ?  What  is  the  most 
solemn  treaty?" 

"You  have  said  it — they  are  naught,"  exclaimed  the  old 
man,  "for  we  are  still  living  in  an  age  of  the  sword. 
Strength  to  wield  the  sword  means  just  so  much  justice  as 
the  arm  has  force  to  carry  the  sword.  I  will  never  admit 
that  our  American  people  havp  with  them  any  spirit  of  evil 
and  wrong  doing,  but  war  will  come  to  us  nevertheless  and 
through  no  fault  of  our  own." 

The  old  man  raised  up  in  his  bed,  and  lifting  his  hands, 
cried  out  in  a  tone  that  enthused  O'Rourke: 

"I  have  fought  twice  for  my  country  and  even  now,  aged 
as  I  am,  I  would  go  forth.  God  has  showered  the  bounty  of 
a,  great  wealth  upon  me  and  now  I  am  leaving  it ;  but  before 
T  go  I  want  to  be  sure  that  my  money  will  do  some  good. 
Do  you  know,"  he  continued  in  a  slow  and  confidential 
voice,  "when  you  feel  yourself  going  down  into  the  valley,  it 
puzzles  one  to  know  how  to  make  your  money  still  labor  for 
you.  I've  been  sidetracked  on  a  good  many  plans  of  well 
doing,  all  of  which  are  useful  even  to  the  Albanian  and  the 
foodstuff  proposition  of  Magnus',  which  bv  the  way  I  was 
sorry  to  have  had  to  abandon.  But  now  I  see  my  mission ; 
I  see  the  great  crusade  already  commencing  to  assemble  be- 
fore I  go — a  crusade  for  the  American  people — ,  and  a 
crusade  in  which  you  will  be  a  leader,  for  without  you  and 
the  confidence  which  T  have  in  you,  it  would  come  to 
nothing." 


198  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

O'Rourke  stroked  his  chin  thoughtfully. 

"Yes,  an  American  crusade,  led  by  an  American,  for  the 
peace  of  the  American  people — ,  a  crusade  that  will  make 
every  American  prepare  himself  to  be  a  soldier.  .  .  .  Why 
is  it  that  today  German  leadership  is  holding  off  the  whole 
world?  Because  every  German  has  been  taught  to  be  a 
soldier,  just  as  every  American  ought,  in  a  reasonable  way, 
to  play  his  part  in  our  national  defense." 

"But  should  we  go  to  that  extreme?"  interjected 
O'Rourke. 

"That's  it,"  ejaculated  the  old  man  almost  excitedly. 
"I  am  glad  that  you  put  that  tone  of  moderation  to  my 
words.  No,  not  to  any  extreme,  for  militarism  will  destroy 
Americanism.  .  .  .  No — ,  it  must  be  moderation  in  all 
things,  but  in  all  there  must  be  that  preparedness  for  the 
protection  of  our  institutions  which  means  an  armed  force 
and  not  a  mere  armed  citizenry.  For  years  I  believed  that 
America  was  all-sufficient,  that  she  did  not  need  my  help, 
but  I  saw  my  foolishness  on  the  way  back  from  the  Turkish 
capital,  and  now  I  have  found  a  way." 

O'Rourke  listened. 

"My  plan  is  to  establish  a  newspaper.  I  will  start  it  off 
with  a  capital  of  twenty-five  million.  That  ought  to  keep  it 
going  for  awhile.  .  .  .  The  only  thing  that  I  ask  is  that  its 
motto  be:  'Preserve  peace  by  preparing  for  war.'  I  will 
give  it  just  three  things :  Its  name,  its  motto,  and  the  money 
to  run  it.  You  must  do  the  rest." 

"What  name  do  you  propose?"  asked  O'Rourke,  now 
thoroughly  interested. 

"It  shall  be  called  'Old  Glory.'  ' 

"An  excellent  name,"  returned  O'Rourke,  "and  one  that 
expresses  its  idea  and  purpose." 

"I  am  glad  you  like  it,  Mr.  Editor,"  smiled  Ward. 

O'Rourke  laughed  back  at  his  new  title. 

"And  now  as  to  your  salary,  O'Rourke;  .  .  .  for,  of 
course,  you  will  accept  the  position  just  to  please  me,  will 
you  not?" 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  replied  O'Rourke.  "Indeed  I 
will  be  glad  to  have  the  chance  to  be  of  such  service.  .  .  . 
The  salary  may  be  a  matter  of  secondary  consideration." 

"Well,  how  would  fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year  do?" 

"Fifty  thousand!"  ejaculated  O'Rourke. 

"Yes,  fifty  thousand  on  a  twenty  year  contract;  for  my 
editor  must  be  the  best  salaried  newspaper  man  in  America. ' ' 


NOT  MILITARISM  BUT  AMERICANISM  199 

O'Rourke  gasped. 

' '  You  are  worth  it, ' '  continued  the  old  man.    "  Is  it  a  go  ? " 

O'Rourke  hesitated,  astounded  at  the  generosity,  when  the 
old  man  calculated: 

''Fifty  thousand  for  twenty  years  makes  only  a  million." 

"As  you  wish,"  returned  O'Rourke  feebly,  hardly  believ- 
ing his  ears. 

"Well,  then,  Mr.  Editor,"  gaily  remarked  Ward.  "You 
may  commence  your  duties  at  once  by  passing  over  to  me 
that  ink  and  paper  that  I,  myself,  may  prepare  the  contract. ' ' 

Bracing  himself  upon  his  pillow,  the  old  man  dashed  off 
a  few  words,  signed  it  and  then  passed  it  over  to  O'Rourke, 
saying : 

"Sign  and  make  a  copy  of  it  and  then  return  it  to  me. 
Under  the  contract  your  pay  commences  today." 

O'Rourke  did  as  he  was  bid  and  after  he  had  made  and 
signed  the  copy,  gave  it  to  Ward  who,  carefully  folding  it, 
slipped  it  deep  under  his  pillow,  saying  softly,  as  though  to 
himself : 

"For  'Old  Glory.'    For  'Old  Glory.'  " 


XXX 

NOT  MILITARISM  BUT  AMERICANISM 

The  next  day  O'Rourke  and  Ward  again  discussed  the 
great  newspaper  enterprise. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "our  newspaper  must  not  en- 
courage militarism,  but  it  must  find  some  way  of  putting  the 
great  forces  of  our  natural  wealth  and  citizenship  into  such 
shape  that  they  may  be  im mediately  mobilized  in  the  service 
of  the  country.  It  sounds  contradictory,  doesn't  it;  but  I 
want  my  country  to  be  both  military  and  still  opposed  to 
militarism. ' ' 

"Not  contradictory  at  all,"  responded  O'Rourke.  "It  is 
a  long  swing  of  the  pendulum  from  military  preparedness 
to  militarism." 

"I  am  glad  you  understand  me,"  smiled  Ward.  "I  knew 
you  would.  That  is  the  reason  I  am  so  happy  in  the  thought 
that  even  though  I  am  dead  and  gone,  my  money  will  do 
some  good." 


200  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Of  course  the  propaganda  would  be  entirely  through 
political  channels.  That  is  to  say,  that  we  would  have  to  be 
active  politically,  picking  out  candidates  for  Congress  and 
approving  or  disapproving  of  the  administration  as  it 
seemed  right  in  view  of  the  crystallization  of  public  senti- 
ment which  will  act  as  our  hand  and  hour  glass,"  mused 
O'Rourke. 

"That's  it!  That's  it!"  excitedly  exclaimed  Ward,  his 
eyes  agleam  with  enthusiasm,  and  then  striking  one  hand 
in  the  palm  of  the  other,  "and  all  the  time  fighting  for 
American  institutions — ,  the  sort  that  we  now  have  today 
and  must  always  perpetuate.  There  are  some  twenty-three 
republics  in  America  and  our  newspaper  must  fight  for  the 
interest  of  our  Latin  neighbors  as  well  as  for  our  own,  and 
keep  on  fighting  to  prevent  the  nuisance  of  a  European  caste 
system  ever  disturbing  our  own  national  existence." 

"Caste  system  is  good,"  smiled  O'Rourke. 

"Yes,  I  hate  castes.  I  hate  them,"  said  the  old  man. 
"Ever  since  a  mere  boy  I  hated  them,  when  I  read  an 
English  book  in  which  the  author  always  spoke  of  the 
'King's  soldiers,'  the  'King's  navy,"  the  'King's  ships,' 
and  the  'King's  people,'  as  if  one  man  actually  could  own 
and  dispose  of  a  whole  nation.  .  .  .  That's  the  trouble  with 
all  those  European  countries  to-day:  England,  Germany, 
Russia  and  even  France — ,  they  are  all  under  the  shadow 
of  the  medieval  caste  system  and  we  must  fight  it;  we  must 
fight  it  so  that  it  does  not  ever  enter  into  our  own  insti- 
tution. .  .  .  Not  that  I  believe  in  war,"  he  continued,  "and 
its  wicked  waste,  for  there  is  no  more  reason  for  war  between 
nations  than  there  is  for  burglary  and  murder  among  men. 
But  as  long  as  we  have  thieves  and  robbers  threatening  our 
property  and  the  security  of  our  homes,  then  just  so  long 
shall  we  have  war  threatening  us  from  abroad.  We  might 
just  as  well  declare  that  the  police  and  jails  and  peniten- 
tiaries are  unnecessary  as  to  assert  that  an  actual  standing 
army  to  which  every  year  will  be  added  the  classes  of  the 
reserves,  is  not  needful  for  the  maintenance  and  safeguard 
of  our  institutions.  .  .  .  Not  that  I  believe  in  going  to  any 
extreme,"  he  declared  as  he  shook  his  head,  as  if  arguing 
with  himself.  "I  would  be  among  the  first  to  give  my  all 
for  the  perpetuation  of  universal  peace,  were  it  possible. 
But  alas,  there  is  no  remedy  against  war  to  be  found  in 
the  whole  history  of  mankind." 


NOT  MILITARISM  BUT  AMERICANISM  201 

"It  is  a  pity,  isn't  it?"  reflected  O'Rourke,  "and  almost 
a  confession  of  the  failure  of  civilization  and  the  break- 
down of  man's  progress.  I  have  gone  over  a  good  many 
figures  recently,"  he  continued,  "and  I  am  simply  astounded 
at  not  only  the  actual  expenditures  but  of  the  actual  waste 
of  war,  regardless  of  the  economic  loss  by  changing  arti- 
sans and  craftsmen  to  soldiers,  and  fishermen  into  sailors. 
Why,  it  actually  costs,  according  to  the  most  moderate  Ger- 
man estimate,  for,  say,  three  million  men  in  the  field,  at  only 
an  average  at  a  dollar  and  half  per  day  per  man,  a  total 
of  four  million  and  a  half  dollars  a  day,  without  counting 
the  interest  on  the  investment  of  ordnance  and  equipments. 
No  benefit  is  produced  from  this  tremendous  expediture.  .  .  . 
Tt  is  all  used  to  destroy  and  tear  down  that  which  a  whole 
generation  has  been  busy  in  building  up,  and  this  is  true  of 
all  European  nations  as  well  as  of  Japan." 

"Yes,"  confirmed  the  old  man.  "Yes,  it  is  just  the  sort 
of  waste  that  the  cracksman  effects  on  a  whole  building 
when  he  dynamites  a  safe;  and  we  must  be  prepared  for 
these  international  cracksmen  whose  envy  is  excited  by  our 
wealth.  .  .  .  But  in  this  regard  there  is  something  which  we 
must  never  forget — that  the  tremendous  aggregations  of 
American  capital  may  form  themselves  into  armament  trusts, 
which  while  exciting  the  people  to  prepare  for  war  will  saddle 
upon  them  the  burden  of  their  greed  and  avarice.  The 
dollar  patriotism  of  gun  and  shrapnel  makers  is  one  of  the 
greatest  menaces  of  our  country — and  we  must  show  the 
people  how  to  protect  themselves  against  the  sinister  combi- 
nations of  government  contract  schemers." 

"Have  you  thought  out  any  program  of  organization  for 
your — for  'Old  Glory,'  "  asked  O'Rourke,  and  he  pro- 
nounced the  title  of  the  paper,  with  a  ring,  for  it  pleased  him 
and  the  words  meant  to  his  patriotic  soul,  a  slogan  of  strength 
and  an  honest  defiance  to  despotism  and  tyranny  and  all 
that  could  insiduously  endanger  the  liberty  of  his  native 
land. 

"I  leave  everything  to  you,"  returned  Ward.  "What 
suggestions  I  may  make  will  be  general.  ...  As  to  the 
mechanical  part  of  the  Daily,  I  have  no  preference  what- 
ever. You  may  publish  it  where  you  may ;  in  New  York  or 
San  Francisco,  or  anywhere  between  these  points,  as  you 
will.  .  .  .  You  may  make  the  paper  large  or  small — with 
few  or  many  pages — and  set  up  the  editorials  where  you 


202  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

will — on  the  front  or  back  page  or  in  the  middle.  Of  all 
this,  I  care  little — just  so  every  issue  gets  the  news — the 
true — the  certain  news,  and  that  it  reaches  the  people,  my 
fellow-citizens,  more  than  any  other  paper  of  the  whole 
world — and  shows  them  both  the  folly  and  the  wisdom  of 
every  day." 

The  old  man  thought  a  long  moment. 

"Do  you  know  all  my  life  long  I  have  admired  men  who 
could  write.  Public  speakers  never  did  thrill  me  very  much 
and  oratory  is  becoming  a  lost  art  among  us,  and  perhaps 
beneficially  so,  for  demagogues  have  always  been  more 
numerous  and  more  convincing  than  the  scribes  of  truth. 
But  the  man  who  can  write — who  can  push  down  out  of 
the  tip  of  his  pen,  words  that,  will  come  to  the  world  as  a 
command  to  be  obeyed — such  a  man  is  the  real  leader  of  the 
world  today,  and  unfortunately  such  men  are  too  rare." 

He  raised  himself  up  on  his  elbow  and  then  with  a  ges- 
ture exclaimed: 

"And  why  is  it?  Why  is  it  that  the  most  precious  pos- 
session of  the  world  to-day,  the  lightning  like  collation  and 
circulation  of  news  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  so  that  the 
information  may  be  accessible  and  intelligible  to  all — why  is 
it  that  this  possession  does  sometimes  as  much  harm  as 
good?" 

"Because  newspapers  are  run  for  personal  profit  and  for 
private  ends,"  returned  O'Rourke.  They  call  themselves  the 
'Public  Press,'  when  they  are  actually  the  'Private  Press.'  ' 

"Exactly,"  confirmed  Ward.  "And  see  to  what  extreme 
the  selfishness  of  private  newspaper  control  extends  and 
how  it  seeks  to  control  public  sentiment  in  its  own  behalf 
for  its  own  selfish  interests  without  any  regard  whatsoever 
for  the  rights  of  others.  Ah,"  and  he  gave  a  despairing 
wave  of  the  hand.  "What  a  different  land  this  would  be — 
how  different,  would  in  the  fact  the  whole  world  be — if 
newspapers,  the  crystallizers  of  public  sentiment  had  more 
of  real  human  justice  read  into  their  columns  and  not  so 
much  of  human  avarice  and  greed.  ...  In  my  opinion  the 
time  may  come  when  a  government  will  have  to  publish 
its  own  newspapers  in  order  to  properlv  protect  its  citizens 
from  the  knavery  and  conspiracy  which  the  newspapers  have 
continually  been  putting  up  against  them." 

"But  if  the  private  ownership  of  newspapers  is  discon- 
tinued, how  can  there  be  expression  of  the  different 
opinions?"  asked  O'Rourke. 


NOT  MILITARISM  BUT  AMERICANISM  203 

"What  is  the  need  of  opinions  in  newspapers  if  there  is 
always  a  sufficient  statement  of  fact,  The  American  people 
are  intelligent.  What  they  want  in  a  newspaper  is  facts, 
not  opinions,"  countered  Ward.  "The  people  want  the 
news — the  facts,  not  opinions  and  arguments.  If  they  have 
the  news  they  will  be  able  to  draw  their  own  deductions." 

"You  in  your  long  service  in  Congress  have  undoubtedly 
had  much  to  do  with  newspapers,"  observed  O'Rourke. 

"Yes,"  admitted  the  old  man.  "And  T  have  found  that 
ordinarily  you  can  buy  any  newspaper  body  and  soul  by 
paying  the  price;  every  man  on  the  paper  from  the  over- 
worked managing  editor  down  to  the  frolicsome  errand  boy 
will  become  your  slave.  Let  them  know  that  you  want  to 
be  called  a  hero  and  the  next  day  there  will  be  published 
to  order  a  lot  of  manufactured  tommyrot  which  would  make 
you  almost  sick  to  read.  There  are  two  great  delusions  under 
which  many  American  papers  labor  today — the  first  is  that 
they  think  that  they  are  fooling  the  rich  and  poor  suckers 
that  give  them  the  money,  and  the  second  delusion  is  the 
thought  that  they  can  fool  the  people." 

O'Rourke  smiled. 

"Now,  for  another  suggestion — let  me  advise  that  you  go 
slow,"  continued  the  old  man.  "Take  your  time  to  get  your 
bearings.  If  you  can  get  your  first  edition  out  in  a  year  from 
now — you  will  be  doing  well.  Yon  have  been  much  away 
from  America — and  will  have  to  re- Americanize  yourself.  .  .  . 
You  must  find  out  what  public  sentiment  is  at  the  present 
time.  You  must  go  the  length  and  breadth  of  our  great  land, 
to  discover  what  the  people  are  reallv  thinking,  if  they 
think  at  all  upon  these  momentous  new  questions  which  are 
now  arising  upon  the  bloody  horizon  of  this  generation.  It 
won't  take  you  long  in  our  East,  for  New  York  rather  domi- 
nates the  sentiment  of  the  whole  Atlantic  Coast — and  the 
conflicting  interests  there  will  only  confuse  you  and  deflect 
your  mind  from  the  real  purpose  of  our  labor.  But  tarry 
long  in  the  middle  West— study  those  marvelous  cities  of 
the  Great  Lakes  and  then  beyond,  .  .  .  those  splendid  new 
centers  of  the  Western  plains.  Then  go  on  to  that  new  and 
wonderful  Empire  of  the  Northwest  with  all  the  marvel  of 
its  suddenly  perfected  natural  development.  Look  loner  at 
the  cities— study  them  and  the  people  who  dwell  within 
thprn.  Consider  in  detail  that  type  of  wonderful  American 
who  flourishes  like  a  Green  Bay  tree  there  by  the  Puget 
Sound  and  the  wide  Columbia  River." 


204  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

The  old  man  gave  a  wide  sweep  of  his  arm. 

"And  then  they  of  the  Gold  and  Silver  States  farther  to 
the  South.  Tarry  long  among  them — know  them  well — for 
it  is  these  people  whom  I  would  first  convince.  I  want  the 
wave  of  American  patriotism  to  start  westward  and  roll  on 
back  toward  the  East  of  their  origin,  for  their  traditions 
are  newer  and  their  raw  fervor  will  do  much  toward  help- 
ing us  in  the  more  sluggish  centers  on  the  Atlantic  side." 

O'Rourke  carried  away  by  the  words  nodded  his  head  in 
approval. 

"Yes — go  slow — get  your  reckonings  so  that  the  course 
will  be  straight  ahead.  This  awful  European  conflict  should 
be  our  awakening.  It  will  be  a  long  time  in  its  settlement 
and  although  I  feel  that  we  should  hurry  on  as  fast  as  we 
can  in  our  purpose — I  am  confident  that  nothing  will  be 
lost  in  waiting  until  the  perspective  is  all  clear  before  us." 

"When  do  you  think  that  you,  yourself,  will  be  able 
to  return?"  asked  O'Rourke  as  the  vision  of  Athena  rose 
up  mistlike  in  his  brain. 

"Oh,  sickness  and  old  age  are  two  infirmities  that  no 
man  can  count  time  by,"  he  smilingly  answered.  "It  is  a 
long  journey  home  and  with  my  daughter  here  I  should 
be  satisfied  to  remain  until  the  second  strength  comes.  How 
long — who  can  tell?" 

Then  he  added,  noticing  O'Rourke 's  downcast  expression, 
"But  you  really  will  not  need  me.  Go  right  along  and  I 
know  that  the  purpose  will  be  fulfilled.  Perhaps  it  may  be 
better  that  you  work  along  entirely  alone,  for  you  know  that 
with  the  infirmities  of  age  comes  sometimes  a  childish 
attention  to  trivial  things  which  might  perplex  you." 

O'Rourke  looked  at  him  long  and  wondered — wondered 
at  the  confidence  he  had  inspired  to  merit  such  great  in- 
dulgence. And  then  he  thought  of  the  purpose — of  the 
great  purpose — the  purpose  of  Old  Glory  and  his  heart 
beat  strong  with  resolution  as  he  felt  the  field  of  his  new 
endeavor  calling  him. 

Almost  reverently  he  arose,  stretched  out  to  take  the 
hand  tremblingly  reached  to  him  and  silently  felt  the  mantle 
of  the  old  man's  strength  falling  upon  him. 

There  was  a  long  pause  until  "Warrl  oon tinned  in  a  matter 
of  fact  tone,  but  with  vehement  fluency : 

"And  there  is  one  thing,  O'Rourke,  that  you  must  not 
forget.  The  American  people  are  all  right,  but  you  must 


205 

remember  that  their  self  approbation  may  be  the  cause  of 
their  ruin.  For  they  are  a  people  who  have  grown  great 
simply  because  of  their  great  constructive  genius — a  genius 
which  merely  comes  from  the  broad  and  varied  sources  of 
their  common  intelligence.  .  .  .  But  what  does  construc- 
tive genius  avail  a  people  unless  they  can  adapt  their  own 
national  life  to  the  plan  of  the  whole  world  about  them,  and 
play  the  part  of  their  own  salvation  in  the  tragedy  of  the 
world's  unfolding.  Ah,  that  is  where  we  fail — we  can 
construct,  but  we  cannot  adapt.  .  .  .  Like  children  we 
build  our  houses  of  sand  upon  "the  beautiful  strands  of  our 
own  shores  with  never  a  thought  of  where  the  rushing  tide 
waters  come  from,  nor  when  they  may  bring  destruction. 
We  content  ourselves  with  a  glimpse  of  the  horizon  that 
curtains  the  distance,  with  never  a  thought  of  what  the 
shores  are  like  which  lie  beyond;  we  survey  our  country  as 
a  land  of  privilege,  never  realizing  that  privilege  means 
obligation,  and  there  is  no  favor  without  the  reciprocal 
obligation  of  giving  another  in  return." 

O'Rourke  followed  attentively. 

"Yes — we  are  becoming  so  self-satisfied  that  it  is  already 
considered  un-American  to  criticize  American  life.  And 
why?  Because  we  are  soft — we  have  become  soft  and  daily 
are  becoming  softer — and  the  duty  of  Old  Glory,  O'Rourke, 
will  be  to  put  iron  in  the  hearts  of  our  men,  that  the  race — 
the  great  American  race — may  again  become  strong." 

His  eyes  shone  deep  as  he  gazed  long  and  steadfastly 
before  him. 

"Ah,  my  fellow  citizens,"  he  cried  out  in  a  loud  voice, 
raising  up  and  looking  beyond  him,  his  arms  outstretched 
as  though  he  were  about  to  address  a  great  multitude.  "Ah, 
my  fellow  citizens,"  he  waited  for  a  moment  as  though 
listening  to  the  light  confusion  of  a  mass  meeting  as- 
sembling in  orderly  fashion.  His  face  was  ecstatic  and  rigid, 
his  gesture  fixed.  He  again  waited  as  if  thrilled  by  the 
vastness  of  a  multitude  and  the  magnetism  of  their  presence 
as  it  came  to  him  in  his  fancy. 

"My  fellow  citizens,"  he  again  began.  "Ah!  ye  do  not 
know,  with  eyes  ye  do  not  see,  with  ears  ye  do  not  hear. 
But  the  message  shall  come.  Yea,  there  will  be  found  those 
who  shall  show  ye  the  way."  He  sank  back  exhausted  in 
the  effort  and  the  violent  play  of  his  own  imagination. 

O'Rourke,  alarmed  at  the  old  man's  hallucination,  rushed 
to  the  bed  and  caught  him  in  his  arms,  as  tenderly  as  a  child. 


206  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

The  veteran  patriot's  eyes  were  closed.  He  breathed  deep- 
ly, resting  peacefully  in  the  strong  arms  of  O'Rourke.  Then 
he  slowly  looked  upward,  his  gaze  again  strong  and  steady. 

"It  was  not  imagination,"  he  said,  slowly,  "why  I 
looked  and  spoke  that  way — I  cannot  tell — except  that  it 
was  to  bring  to  your  own  mind  the  greatness  of  the  task 
which  lies  before  you.  Love  for  my  country  coursed  in  my 
veins  before  I  was  born — from  the  heart  springs  of  my 
American  mother,  saintly  in  the  quality  of  her  patriotism. 
It  was  she  who  sent  me  forth  in  tears  of  resignation  and 
welcomed  me  back,  again  with  tears,  but  of  pride  and  joy, 
when  I  twice  went  forth  to  offer  my  life  to  my  country 
and  twice  safely  returned.  And  her  patriotism  will  still 
live  on  after  I  myself  am  gone — live  on  because  you  will 
find  the  way  to  foster  it." 

O'Rourke  was  deeply  moved.  .  .  .  He  laid  his  hand 
caressingly  upon  that  of  the  old  soldier.  Then  he  looked 
at  him  long  and  wondered;  looked  at  the  gaunt  massive 
form  outlined  underneath  the  white  covering  of  the  bed, 
and  at  that  earnest  face.  He  wondered  at  the  philanthropy 
of  that  patriot,  that  American  patriot  whose  spirit  ever 
wandered  back  to  the  land  of  his  birth,  the  land  to  which 
he  had  already  offered  and  given  the  best  of  his  force  and 
strength. 

In  his  mind's  eye  he  pictured  him  as,  when  a  callow  lad 
he  bade  his  mother  farewell  and  followed  the  waving  flag 
that  led  him  down  over  the  arid  cacti  plains  and  the  mirage 
painted  deserts  of  Mexico,  to  the  carnage  of  a  merciless 
war,  and  then  he  saw  him,  as  the  mother's  eyes  again  filled 
with  tears,  when  to  him  in  the  ranks  of  blue  she  waved 
her  farewell  and  thrilled  her  boy's  heart  with  her  final 
Godspeed. 

O'Rourke  was  moved — deeply  so;  the  setting  about  him 
seemed  biblical  and  he  found  himself  before  he  knew  it 
kneeling  by  the  old  warrior's  side — with  a  keener  feeling 
of  American  patriotism  than  he  had  ever  before  known.  In 
his  ears,  his  imagination  pronounced  the  words,  "Greater 
love  hath  no  man" —  and  then  in  a  moment  incongruous  as 
it  was,  his  imagination  appealed  to  another  sense  and  he 
felt  himself  standing  at  the  chariot  of  the  prophet  with 
the  winging  of  heavenly  forms  about  him — and  the  rustle 
of  the  mantle  as  it  fell  upon  his  shoulders. 

And  his  fancy  must  have  seemed  to  him  most  real — for 


THE  DOOR  AJAR  207 

when  he  again  stood  upright  there  was  a  zealous  look  in 
his  eyes— a  look  of  resolution,  of  faith,  of  a  courage  born 
from  a  new  strength. 

He  threw  back  his  shoulders  and  gathered  his  arras  up- 
ward, as  if  he  still  felt  in  his  fancy,  the  rustling  mantle  of 
the  old  patriot's  strength  falling  upon  him. 


XXXI 

THE   DOOR  AJAR 

The  next  few  days  were  very  busy  ones  for  0  'Rourke,  for 
he  commenced  his  duties  as  the  prospective  editor  of  "Old 
Glory,"  going  about  to  the  leading  newspaper  leaders  of  Lon- 
don, all  of  whom  he  knew  personally,  and  getting  the  benefit 
of  their  advice.  He  and  the  old  man  were  daily  in  almost 
continual  consultation,  and  Ward  grew  more  and  more  en- 
thused with  the  project. 

0 'Rourke  had  barely  had  a  moment's  conversation  with 
Athena.  She  continued  to  avoid  him,  and  several  times 
left  abruptly  the  room  of  her  father  as  0 'Rourke  entered. 
Her  coldness  and  apparent  indifference  depressed  him.  Her 
own  room  adjoined  that  of  her  father's  and  once,  when 
Ward  was  reading  some  papers  to  0 'Rourke  through  the 
door  partly  ajar,  he  heard  her  moving  about,  busy  with 
some  of  the  little  affairs  of  her  toilet,  singing  softly  to  her- 
self in  a  tremulous,  subdued  voice,  the  pitch  keyed  high, 
but  the  tone  low  and  sweet.  Then  she  abruptly  stopped  and 
he  heard  the  rustle  of  her  skirt  and  the  catch  of  a  cabinet 
door  as  she  opened  and  closed  it.  And  as  he  listened,  her 
vision  came  up  before  him,  just  as  he  had  seen  her  on  the 
Acropolis  that  day.  Again  he  sensed  the  perfume  of  her  hair, 
wafted  to  him  by  the  breezes  of  the  vEgean.  Her  face  in 
his  fancy  shown  down  upon  him  from  the  sapphire  sky  above 
Salamis — in  a  beauty  to  him  fairer  than  that  which  inspired 
Phidias.  Again  he  seemed  to  hold  her  in  his  arms  as  he 
gathered  her  to  him  in  the  black  waters  of  the  Marmora. 

"Ah!  What  a  woman!  What  an  angel!"  he  reflected, 
unconscious  that  Ward  had  finished  the  reading  and  was 
speaking  to  him. 

With  his  arms  folded,  0 'Rourke  still  listened  and  dreamt 


208  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

on,  feeling  as  though  covered  by  a  blanket  of  emotion  as 
he  followed  her  light  footfall.  His  mind  became  suddenly 
obsessed  with  the  thought  of  her  presence,  just  beyond,  and 
he  realized  that  the  world  would  be  forever  lonely  without 
her. 

The  music  of  the  orchestra  in  the  great  hotel  lobby  below 
came  floating  up  the  elevator  shafts,  the  tones  sweetly  ac- 
cordant with  the  heavier  orchestral  players  syncopating  their 
parts,  and  bringing  out  the  sweetness  of  the  lighter  instru- 
ments. 

She,  too,  heard  it  and  hummed  along  with  the  music,  as 
she  went  about,  busied  with  her  work. 

Then  the  music  stopped  and  the  voices  also,  and  the  rustle 
of  her  gown  near  the  door  caused  him  to  turn.  .  .  .  She 
greeted  him  formally,  but  her  eyes  looked  only  at  her  father. 

"I  think,  father,  that  I  shall  use  the  private  pass  to-day 
at  the  National  Gallery.  I  am  sorry  that  you  cannot  go  with 
me.  I  will  not  be  gone  long,"  and  kissing  him,  and  with 
a  light  nod  in  recognition  of  O'Rourke's  standing,  she  passed 
out. 

O'Rourke's  heart  sank  with  this  renewed  evidence  of  her 
indifference.  Long  after  her  dress  had  rustled  through  the 
open  doorway,  he  still  stared  after  her.  .  .  .  Then  taking 
a  paper  which  "Ward  handed  him,  he  noticed  that  his  hands 
were  trembling,  and  there  seemed  to  be  some  voice  calling 
down  from  the  depths  of  his  being,  "You  love  her.  You 
love  her." 


XXXII 
MORE  THAN  MERE  SPOKEN  WORDS 

The  act  of  a  vandal  had  closed  the  National  Gallery  the 
last  time  Athena  had  been  in  London,  and  with  great  eager- 
ness she  ran  up  the  stairway  through  the  portico  and  on 
into  the  Gallery.  She  had  already  been  there  a  full  hour 
when,  in  the  perspective,  down  over  the  waxed  floor,  she 
saw  a  man  strolling  towards  her.  It  was  O'Rourke. 

"I  took  the  liberty  to  follow  you.  I  hope  that  I  am  not 
intruding. ' ' 

"One  always  understands  the  pictures  better  with  a  com- 


MORE  THAN  MERE  SPOKEN  WORDS         209 

panion,"  she  said,  and  turned  over  the  leaves  of  her  guide 
book  with  her  gloved  hand. 

"We  have  never  even  talked  pictures  together,  have  we?" 
he  remarked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

1 '  I  know  you  must  know  something  about  pictures.  Please 
explain  them,"  she  asked,  still  avoiding  his  gaze. 

"Who  can  tell  anything  about  a  picture  or  about  art?" 
he  mused. 

"Yes,"  she  submitted.  "I  know  pictorial  art  is  seen  and 
felt,  but  hardly  described,  particularly  to  Americans  who 
have  had  so  little  opportunity  to  know  art  as  they  know  it 
here  in  Europe." 

"True,"  he  assented  and  then  dreamily  went  on  as  he 
looked  down  the  long  perspective  of  the  gilded  frames.  "The 
art  that  I  knew  as  a  child  was  the  art  of  the  woods,  the 
fields  and  flowered  meadows,  when  along  the  tumbling  brook 
and  the  sweep  of  the  river,  I  learned  to  know  the  songbirds 
and  to  call  each  flower  by  name.  That  was  the  art  of  my 
childhood — ,  the  art  that  came  to  me  as  I  followed  the  plow- 
man's furrows,  fresh  with  the  incense  of  Spring  and  waited 
eagerly  for  each  dull  roll  and  break  of  the  sod  to  see  if  per- 
chance I  might  not  find  the  treasure  of  some  Indian  relic, 
in  the  delicately  worked  flint  of  an  arrow  head.  Yes,  my 
art  then  was  the  art  of  the  gleaming  corn  fields,  and  the 
rolling  waters  of  the  lake  purling  in  at  the  foot  of  the  bluffs, 
and  in  understanding  that  art — ,  that  art  of  Nature — ,  I 
think  afterward  I  found  a  better  understanding  of  painted 
canvases  and  chiseled  marbles." 

"Yes,"  she  supplemented,  "Communion  with  Nature; 
that  is  what  the  artists  call  it,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  and  as  America  grows  old  and  the  cities  encroach 
upon  the  country,  of  course,  we  do  not  get  that  same  com- 
munion with  Nature  that  our  fathers  had.  But  it  is  then 
here  in  these  galleries,  these  great  depositories  of  art  that  we 
still  hear  the  idealized  song  of  the  birds  and  breathe  in  the 
fragrance  of  the  meadows  and  the  woodlands  and  listen  to 
the  purl  and  song  of  the  waters." 

He  led  her  over,  as  he  spoke,  towards  the  painting  by 
Titian  called  "The  Repose." 

"You  remember,"  he  asked,  "when  we  were  at  Eleusis; 
in  the  ruins  of  the  Temple  of  Mysteries,  that  we  spoke  of 
that  great  past  religion  founded  upon  a  mother's  love?  Now, 


210  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

look  at  the  faces  of  those  two  women — could  there  be  any 
thing  more  beautiful,  more  inspiring?" 

She  looked  up  at  the  canvas,  with  its  softly  blended  colors 
of  the  softened  blue  and  the  golden  brown,  and  gazed  long 
at  the  beauty  of  the  features. 

' '  The  face  is  a  reflection  of  the  heart, ' '  he  continued,  ' '  and 
it  is  the  woman's  heart  as  delineated  on  the  features  of  those 
beautiful  figures  that  humanizes  the  world." 

They  sat  down  on  the  red  plush  settee  in  the  midst  of  the 
aisle. 

"But  women  are  so  foolish,"  she  expostulated.  "Their 
influence  is  so  weak.  Oh,  how  can  I  ever  forget  my  weak- 
ness on  the  boat  when  we  came  to  Tillsbury. " 

"Please  don't,"  he  pleaded. 

She  closed  her  guide  book  and  fingered  it  tremulously. 

"If  I  were  a  man  I  suppose  I  should  be  called  a  cad," 
she  murmured. 

"No,"  he  responded.  "It  is  I  who  am  the  cad,  whatever 
the  ugly  little  word  may  mean,  for  not  having  thought  to 
have  gone  into  the  details  of  my  private  life." 

"Far  from  blaming  you,"  she  returned.  "I  find  such 
secretiveness  under  the  circumstances  quite  commendable." 

"What  circumstances?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  what  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  hotel  was  telling  me 
about  you — ,  your  nobility  towards  the  lady  who  was — , 
your  wife."  Her  tone  dropped  to  almost  a  whisper.  "She 
told  me  that  in  Paris  she  had  heard  how  you  fell  in  love 
with  her  voice  and  underwent  every  sacrifice  to  give  her  the 
education  to  make  her  the  great  singer  that  she  is." 

"Oh,  please  don't  speak  of  it,"  he  said,  and  then  asked, 
point  blank : 

"Are  you  prejudiced  against  divorced  men?" 

She  turned  and  looked  him  fully  in  the  eyes  for  the  first 
time. 

' '  Why  do  you  ask  ?    Why  would  my  opinion  interest  you  ? ' ' 

"Because — ,"  he  faltered.  "Because — , "  and  then  fold- 
ing his  arms  looked  before  him,  the  sentence  still  unfinished. 

"It  was  good  of  you  to  want  me  to  go  back  to  America 
with  you,"  he  recommenced.  "Do  you  still  wish  it?" 

"My  father  has  never  been  so  happy  as  he  has  been  since 
he  has  taken  you  into  his  ambition.  Therefore,  why  should 
I  not  be  pleased?" 

He  dropped  his  hands  to  his  side  and  leaning  back  gazed 
into  her  eyes  as  she,  too,  looked  at  him. 


"It's  confirmation  of  the  news  of  the  death  of  his  last  son — there  were 

ffmr     nf     thpm     all     VilWl     in     liattla anH     nn\v     ho     hao     nnlv     that     Hail^htfr     Ipft 


THE  DECORATION  211 

In  the  movement  the  guide  book  fell  over  onto  the  floor 
He  reached  down  and  picked  it  up  and  in  the  act  both  of 
them  had  risen. 

As  though  dazed,  they  looked  long  upon  the  picture  be- 
fore them,  but  there  was  no  thought  of  the  picture  in  their 
minds.  Then  their  eyes  again  met,  and  her  whole  face  was 
melted  with  tenderness,  while  a  soft  wave  of  emotion  passed 
over  his  own. 

''You  speak  of  your  father's  ambition  and—,  and— of 
mine,"  he  murmured  softly,  his  hands  thrilling  upon  hers 
as  he  returned  the  book. 

"Do  you  know,  I  never  could  feel  any  ambition  unless  it 
was  made  complete  by  sharing  it  with — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  phrase  for  as  their  spirits  met  in 
one  long  deep  lingering  look,  they  both  understood,  and  a 
smile  of  happiness  reflected  an  answer  more  eloquent  than 
mere  spoken  words. 


XXXIII 

THE  DECORATION 

They  went  on  back  toward  the  hotel,  passing  across  Trafal- 
gar Square,  with  Nelson's  monument  looming  up  over 
them — ,  the  great  hero's  statue  facing  the  placards  on  the 
balconies  opposite,  calling  for  recruits  for  Europe's  bloodiest 
war. 

From  time  to  time  a  glance  flashed  between  them,  softly 
moulding  their  features  in  a  caste  of  happiness;  she  with  a 
smile  of  glory  on  her  face,  her  lips  trembling  with  the  su- 
preme emotion  of  the  moment ;  he  with  eyes  resting  long,  full 
and  deep  upon  her,  while  from  their  depths  she  felt  the  mag- 
netism of  his  love.  Suddenly  there  set  itself  upon  0  'Rourke  's 
features  an  expression  which,  as  she  looked,  seemed  to  her  to 
be  born  of  doubt. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  her  own  mind  clouding. 

He  turned  his  face  away  from  her  and  drew  her  back 
lightly  toward  the  pedestal  of  the  great  monument. 

"See,"  he  said,  pointing  at  one  of  the  figures.  "See,  there 
is  a  soldier,  and  upon  his  breast  he  wears  a  decoration,  to 
win  which,  he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  his  life." 

14 


212  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

Puzzled  to  know  his  meaning,  she  turned  full  toward  him. 
He  continued: 

"Yes.  We  all  want  to  wear  decorations  of  some  sort — , 
a  decoration  for  courage — ,  something  to  always  remind  us 
that  we  have  been  worthy  of  the  great  reward." 

"I  don't  understand,"  she  said,  wrondering  at  his  earnest- 
ness. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  speaking  as  if  her  own  mind  had  fathomed 
what  should  have  gone  between.  ' '  A  divorced  man  from  some 
people 's  standpoint  is  always  more  or  less  broken ;  and  to 
some,  an  abject  pariah.  Has  such  a  man  the  right  to  take 
from  a  young  and  beautiful  woman — ,  the  most  wonderful 
that  God  has  ever  made — ,  has  such  a  man  the  right  to  take 
her  in  all  her  freshness  and  beauty,  to  perhaps  some  day 
regret  the  stigma  which  he,  himself,  bears?" 

"But  it  was  not  your  fault,"  she  stoutly  exclaimed.  "You 
were  noble.  You  played  the  man's  part  and  the  whole  world 
knows  it." 

"Ah,  but,"  he  responded  sadly,  "the  fact  still  remains 
that  there  are  some  who  will  always  find  the  stain  even 
though  it  has  been  washed  a  thousand  times  away  in  the 
most  cleansing  pool  of  honor.  You,  I  think,  should  not  be 
misled  in  this  great  step.  I  must  give  you  time.  ...  I  must 
not  bind  you  by  any  promise." 

Her  face  took  on  an  expression  of  intense  tenderness. 

"Perhaps  in  a  week  or  even  in  a  day  your  mind  may 
change." 

She  moved  her  head  in  denial. 

"But  you  have  not  had  time  to  find  yourself,  for  I  have 
been  with  you  constantly,  and  propinquity  always  begets 
affection  of  some  sort." 

Slowly  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  card  case.  It  was  empty 
save  for  a  little  white  strip  of  corded  silk  braid  which  he 
took  out  and  laid  in  his  palm. 

"This  is  yours,"  he  said,  "but  I  never  intended  to  give 
it  back  to  you.  It  came  from  your  skirt  which  was  torn 
away  while  we  were  struggling  for  our  lives  in  the  waters 
of  Marmora.  I  found  it  the  morning  after  in  the  hooks  of 
my  shoe." 

He  held  it  up  and  pressing  it  out  upon  his  breast,  said: 

"It  attracted  my  attention  because  it  is  much  like  one  of 
those  ribbons  they  use  for  mounting  decorations.  It  was 
torn  away  so  neatly  that  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  an  emblem, 


THE  DECORATION  213 

and  although  it  was  foolish,  I  have  treasured  it  ever  since. 
Why — ,  I  have  really  never  known  nor  asked  myself." 

He  passed  it  over  to  her  and  she  took  it  mechanically. 

"I  never,  as  I  now  search  back  in  my  mind,"  he  continued 
"wronged  you  by  thinking  of  you  sentimentally,  for  as  a 
married  man  I  could  not  have  done  so,  and  then,  somehow, 
I  always  thought  that  you  cared  for  the  Prince." 

She  made  a  gesture  of  protest  and  tendered  him  the  braid. 

"No,"  he  responded.  "I  have  not  won  my  decoration 
yet—,  not  untilyou  know,  and  I  know  that  there  is  no  mis- 
take," and  he  led  her  slowly  along  away  from  the  noise  of 
Charing  Cross,  those  two  souls  communing  together  with  the 
throbbing  heart  of  the  greatest  city  pulsing  around  them; 
to  them  unnoticed,  unheard  and  unminded. 

Arm  in  arm  and  in  silence  they  went  across  the  great 
square. 

"When  I  meet  you  in  America  then  I  will  know,"  he  at 
length  ventured. 

"And  my  father's  program  for  you — it  will  be  a  long  time 
before  we  meet  again?"  she  queried. 

"Yes,  long — but  for  the  best — for  then  you  will  have  your 
chance  to  find  out  if  you  really  think  that  you  should  make 
this  sacrifice." 

"Are  you  not  too  considerate  of  me?"  And  then  with  a 
sudden  feeling  of  distrust  and  with  even  a  touch  of  bitter- 
ness in  her  voice — 

"Perhaps  it  is,  that  you  yourself  do  not  care  so  much." 
She  made  a  light  gesture  of  despair,  but  there  was  some- 
thing of  resignation  in  it  which  made  him  for  the  moment 
wince.  .  .  .  Then  he  knew.  She,  the  delicate  minded,  the 
gentle  flower  with  a  soul  as  clear  as  a  moonbeam  and  a  na- 
ture as  warm  as  the  glowing  sun — she,  with  that  wonder- 
ful affection  for  him,  a  love  which  might  wither — might  wilt 
under  the  ardor  of  his  heroic  sacrifice,  so  excruciating  to  him, 
could  not  fully  understand. 

"Ah!  you  do  not  know — you  can  perhaps  not  yet  know," 
he  said  slowly,  as  he  took  the  braid. 

She  seized  his  arm  closer  as  they  still  walked  slowly  along. 

"You  will  have  a  chance  by  returning  without  me  to  find 
yourself.  ...  to  really  know — ,  how  you  feel,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

He  did  not  look  but  he  felt  that  tears  had  come  to  her 
eyes.  She  was  biting  her  lips  to  restrain  them. 


214  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Do  not  fear  to  grieve  me,"  he  murmured  softly.  "But 
if  you  find  that  you  have  made  a  mistake,  just  destroy 
this — ,  this — ;  let  me  call  it  my  symbol  of  happiness."  And 
he  handed  her  the  bit  of  braid. 

' '  And  if  I  do  not  ? ' '  she  asked  bravely,  as  she  gathered  the 
silk  in  her  hand. 

' '  Then  send  it  to  me ;  send  it  to  me  as  soon  as  you  are 
sure. ' ' 

They  were  both  silent  as  they  came  back  to  the  hotel,  and 
with  every  step  O  'Rourke  's  heart  became  more  saddened  with 
the  doubt  and  uncertainty  of  the  test  he  had  imposed  upon 
her,  and  all  through  the  hours  of  the  days  that  followed 
he  heard  something — a  voice — within  him  continually  re- 
peating : 

"You  have  lost  her.  You  have  lost  her.  By  your  folly 
you  have  lost  her." 

And  then  another  voice  spoke  from  within  him: 

"Be  of  good  cheer — for  she  shall  still  be  thine." 


BOOK  THREE 


I 
THE  LAND  OF  OLD  GLORY 


Nothing  ever  looked  as  good  to  O'Rourke  as  the  American 
flag  when  he  saw  it  floating  from  a  pier  head  of  East  River. 
New  York  had  changed  greatly;  there  were  higher  building 
silhouettes,  higher  outlines  in  the  long  stretch  of  skyscrapers 
beyond,  and  new  changes  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  as  the 
giant  liner  went  its  way  to  its  mooring.  But  of  such  changes 
he  made  little  note ;  it  was  for  those  other  changes  that  he 
was  looking — changes  in  the  spirit — in  the  heart  of  the  Amer- 
ican people.  Would  their  pulse  of  patriotism  be  quickened 
by  the  daily  installments  of  news  from  the  war  zones?  What 
effect  would  the  terrible  conflict  have  upon  the  whole  people? 
Would  it  make  them  more  patriotic,  more  earnest  in  their 
endeavors  to  work  on  in  the  cause  of  humanity,  or  would 
their  blood  run  more  sluggish  in  a  mistaken  sense  of  security, 
created  by  their  own  seeming  immunity  from  the  ravages 
of  the  great  conflict? 

Mechanically  he  went  through  the  delay  of  the  medical 
inspection — then  the  customs  examination  and  finally  found 
himself  buzzing  along  in  a  taxi  through  the  crowded  streets 
to  the  hotel,  earnestly  scanning  the  faces  he  glimpsed  as  the 
vehicles  rolled  along. 

He  found  himself  continually  reflecting  upon  his  great 
mission;  and  there  were  thoughts  of  Athena  which  ever 
floated  like  a  vision  before  him.  That  Old  Glory  would 
succeed — he  had  never  a  doubt — and  that  Athena  would  be 
his — well —  he  was  happy  in  the  contemplation  of  the  day 
when  he  felt  that  the  decoration  would  come. 

When  would  she  send  it  to  him?  Would  it  be  when  Old 
Glory  had  finally  appeared  and  when  its  success  was  cer- 
tain—? Would  it  then  come  to  him  as  a  reward  for  his 
efforts  and  in  commendation  of  his  success;  or  would  it  per- 
haps come  during  the  period  of  his  long  and  arduous  pre- 
215 


216  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

liminary  labor  to  cheer  and  inspirit  him  in  the  solitude  of 
his  wanderings'? 

As  his  stay  was  not  to  be  long  in  Gotham,  he  promptly 
made  his  way  to  the  ticket  office  in  the  hotel  lobby  to  make 
reservations  for  the  western  journey. 

It  was  a  full  quarter  of  an  hour  before  he  had  routed  his 
itinerary,  for  what  with  the  telephone  calls  to  the  central 
stations,  and  the  looking  up  of  the  time  tables  on  the  part 
of  the  loud-voiced  ticket  seller,  talking  in  a  voice  which  al- 
lowed everyone  in  the  waiting  line  to  inform  himself  con- 
cerning O'Rourke 's  first  destination;  it  was  not  only  a 
lengthy,  but  a  very  unprivate  way  to  arrange  for  a  passage 
across  the  continent. 

"There  they  are  at  last,  Mr.  O'Rourke — "  the  office  ticket 
seller  finally  exclaimed,  as  he  pasted  the  tickets  together  and 
put  them  in  an  envelope  after  O'Rourke  had  signed  them. 

At  the  public  mention  of  his  name  O'Rourke  turned  rather 
disturbed.  He  had  a  gentleman's  aversion  to  having  his 
name  called  out  in  public,  but  no  one  noticed  it,  not  even 
the  next  in  line,  a  solemn,  tall,  foreign  looking  man  waiting 
his  turn  to  occupy  the  attention  of  the  ticket  seller. 

As  O'Rourke  pocketed  his  change  and  walked  away,  an 
unusual  curiosity  impelled  him  to  again  glance  at  the  im- 
perturbable and  funereal  looking  stranger. 

"What  a  character  for  a  novel,"  thought  he. 

It  was  a  hot  night  and  O'Rourke  was  heartily  glad  to  be 
getting  away  from  New  York,  exulting  the  next  morning  at 
his  escape  from  the  heat  as  the  cool  breeze  blew  down  from 
the  Adirondacks.  He  felt  keyed  up.  He  had  had  success — 
great  successes — successes  that  had  only  come  after  months 
and  years  of  labor — but  they  had  never  made  him  as  ex- 
uberant as  the  glorious  prospect  of  this  new  venture  which 
lay  full  and  fair  before  him. 

He  wondered  whether  it  was  the  love  which  he  bore 
toward  Athena  or  the  glory  in  the  prospect  of  his  mission 
which  enthused  him  most.  Woman's  love  had  never  been 
a  really  essential  part  of  his  life.  He  had  married — well, 
he  hardly  knew  why.  What  was  woman's  love  compared  to 
that  greater  love  which  every  human  creature  owed  toward 
all  humanity?  He  resolved  his  attitude  toward  Athena 
rather  as  a  matter  of  worship  than  of  mere  love.  As  to  the 
founding  of  a  family — well — that  had  hardly  even  entered 
into  his  mind.  He  was  perplexed  and  troubled  to  account 


LAND  OF  OLD  GLORY  217 

within  himself  as  to  the  real  sentiment  of  it  all,  but  little 
by  little  his  doubts  gave  away  to  confidence  awakened  by 
the  joy  of  again  being  in  the  land  of  his  birth. 

The  change  from  the  companionable  life  of  shipboard  to 
the  monotony  and  isolation  of  train  travel  would  have  worn 
depressingly  upon  him,  had  it  not  been  for  this  buoyancy 
of  his  spirits  as  he  reflected  upon  the  work  before  him. 

Yes,  it  was  good  to  be  back  in  the  land  of  Old  Glory — 
and  to  have  the  mission — that  great  and  to  him  sacred  mis- 
sion— which  had  come  as  a  legacy  from  the  accumulated 
riches  and  the  patriotic  devotion  of  "Ward. 

His  heart  warmed  as  he  thought  of  the  wonderful  oppor- 
tunity presented  him  to  become  the  leader  of  an  educational 
crusade — the  greatest  the  world  had  ever  known;  and  on 
behalf  of  his  country — the  most  prosperous  nation  on  the 
planet. 

He  had  the  time,  the  fortune  and  above  all  the  love  for 
America,  and  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  whole  world's 
culture,  which  would  make  his  work  under  the  inspiration 
of  Ward  go  down  through  history.  Ah !  how  careful  he  must 
be  not  to  err;  to  keep  free  from  entanglements;  to  win  over 
the  whole  American  people  by  the  psychological  suggestion 
of  intelligent  information,  .  .  .  calmly  and  dispassionately, 
without  the  trammel  of  a  single  fear  nor  the  embarrassment 
of  a  single  misgiving. 

Yes,  Ward  was  right  in  suggesting  that  he  take  a  prelim- 
inary survey  of  the  length  and  the  breadth  of  the  whole 
changing  scheme  of  our  American  States,  before  really  com- 
mencing the  nobly  inspired  work.  He  would  go  first  on  to 
the  great  Inland  Empire  of  the  Northwest,  where  the  heat 
of  the  summer  was  assuaged  by  the  air  dancing  down  in 
the  crispness  of  its  life  from  the  snow-tipped  peaks  of  the 
forest-clad  mountains  of  those  wonderful  commonwealths  of 
the  Great  Imperial  Northwest.  Then  he  would  brush  up  be- 
yond into  the  wide  domain  of  the  Canadian  States  to  see  how 
the  expatriated  Americans  viewed  their  life  as  a  part  of  the 
land  they  had  left  and  the  land  they  had  taken  over.  He 
had  heard  that  there  were  none  more  loyal  to  England  in 
the  peril  of  the  Great  War  than  those  sons  of  America,  some- 
times representing  an  American  lineage  that  went  back  to 
revolutionary  times;  and  that  they  had  become  even  more 
truly  Canadian  than  they  had  ever  been  American.  He 
wanted  to  know  if  this  were  true— if  American  citizenship 


218  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

was  already  becoming  a  thing  to  be  cast  away,  even  by  a 
few,  as  had  the  older  citizenships  of  Europe  been  thrust 
aside,  the  old  for  the  new,  during  the  years  of  our  own  up- 
building from  the  races  of  the  continent  beyond.  .  .  .  And 
then  he  would  strike  down  through  those  giant  centers  of 
the  restless,  pulsing  West,  to  see  their  hearts  beat  in  unison 
with  the  rest  of  the  American  States.  About  Puget  Sound 
and  its  queenly  cities  now  coming  by  modern  inventions 
within  calling  distance  of  the  mighty  awakened  East 
arraying  its  forces  on  the  shore  beyond,  what  did  they  think, 
those  brothers  of  the  Northwest?  What  was  their  ambition 
for  the  land  of  their  birth?  What  would  they  do  to  de- 
fend it  in  the  hour  of  its  defense — against  an  invasion  which 
at  the  most  unexpected  time  might  strike  up  against  them, 
from  the  cloud  flecked  horizon  beyond  their  own  fair  forest 
lined  shores?  What  was  their  part  in  the  great  program 
of  patriotic  endeavor  which  he  was  to  grind  over  giant  press 
cylinders  upon  the  printed  page? 

And  when  he  had  pulsed  their  sentiment,  when  he  had 
gathered  in  the  answer  and  known  the  truth,  then  he  would 
go  on  downward  and  southward  to  the  lands  of  other  tradi- 
tions, where  the  lure  of  gold  rather  than  the  wealth  of  the 
forests  had  called  man  out  from  the  distant  East  and  up 
from  the  farther  Latin  South,  and  where  they  had  met — 
those  men  of  different  race,  religion  and  creed — and  where 
they  had  struggled;  and  the  one  had  lost  and  the  other  had 
won  and  conquered  by  that  same  Anglo-Saxon  impulse  of 
strength  and  right  which  was  planted  as  the  foundation  of 
our  very  national  existence. 

Yes,  there  too  he  should  inquire  and  learn.  .  .  .  He  would 
read  in  the  story  of  their  social  life,  the  lines  tha.t  spoke 
of  their  love  of  country.  Was  it  waning  or  growing?  Were 
those  people  born  from  the  melting  pot,  wherein  the  gold 
hunter  and  the  rancher — the  pioneer  farmer  and  the  moun- 
tain ranger  had  all  given  in,  the  splendid  metals  of  their 
own  rugged  natures — ,  now  that  the  ease  and  plenty  of 
another  generation  had  fallen  like  manna  before  them  for 
the  enjoyment  of  their  descendants — did  they,  too,  like  their 
forbears,  conserve  any  great  part  of  the  unyielding  strength 
of  those  struggling  and  successful  men  of  that  other  day? 

Yes,  he  would  find  out  the  real  answer.  He  would  follow 
along  the  whole  length  of  that  wonderful  fortune  land  of 
California,  which  some  day  might  have  to  serve  with  its 


LAND  OF  OLD  GLORY  219 

Pacific  Sister  States  of  the  North,  as  a  bunker,  against  the 
invasion  of  another  nation,  a  nation  which,  although  it  might 
seem  across  the  Far  Western  horizon  as  no  larger  than  a 
man's  hand  would  some  day  perhaps  develop  into  a  cloud 
that  would  long  darken  the  sky  of  our  political  hope.  .  . 
He  already  knew  of  the  activity  of  those  progressive  resi- 
dents of  the  fair  Pacific  States — of  those  of  that  wonder  city 
which  undaunted  even  by  the  very  heaviest  forces  of  nature- 
defying  the  depths  of  the  world  below — sprang  upright  with 
undaunted  courage,  and  from  the  ashes  and  ruins  built  up 
a  city  even  more  fair  and  more  lovely,  and  with  brow  again 
held  proudly  high,  invited  the  whole  world  to  come  and  be- 
hold the  wonder. 

Yes,  and  he  knew  of  the  mettle  of  that  other  fair  city  to 
the  south — ,  not  the  city  of  "The  Angels,"  but  of  "Our 
Lady  the  Queen  of  the  Angels" — and  the  queen  protectress 
of  those  sturdy  men,  who  upon  the  barren  waste  of  a  desert 
edge,  planned  one  of  the  fairest  spots  ever  beheld  by  the 
eyes  of  man.  Plunging  out,  over  and  through  the  deadening 
heat  of  the  desert,  they  harnessed  up  a  river,  and  brought 
its  mountain  flood  down  on  and  out  and  over  the  two  hun- 
dred long  and  weary  miles  of  blazing  sand,  and  even  then 
over  another  fifty  miles  of  trackless  lifeless  plain,  until  at 
last  in  ten  thousand  rippling  fountains  they  loosened  it  upon 
the  thirsting  earth,  which  in  response  bloomed  out  in  fra- 
grance to  delight  and  nourish  man. 

Yes,  he  knew  well  the  wonder  working  of  those  of  the  city 
of  "Our  Lady  the  Queen  of  the  Angels — "  how  from  a  mere 
inland  village,  they  had  spread  out  to  the  rolling  Pacific 
beyond,  tearing  down  the  granite  side  of  mountains  to  hurl 
defiance  at  the  sea  in  a  long  line  of  giant  walls  and  then  be- 
yond in  a  surcease  from  their  labors  gathering  in  palatial 
structures  by  the  tide-washed  sands,  upon  which  the  waves 
chorused  their  music  to  dance  and  merriment,  reflecting  the 
gleam  of  a  thousand  lights,  and  echoing  the  refrain  of  care- 
free, joyous  songs. 

Oh!  the  wonder  of  it  all,  the — strength  of  those  builders 
who,  after  the  long  weary  years  of  waiting,  are  now  gathered 
into  palaces  of  mirth  and  music,  with  hands  contentedly 
folded  after  the  labor. 

As  he  reflected,  the  words  of  the  old  man  came  back  to 
him ;  those  words  like  a  call  of  alarm,  as  he  had  uttered  them 
from  the  depths  of  the  bed  of  his  invalidism. 


220  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Do  not  let  them  get  soft — this  great  American  people — 
make  them  feel  that  there  must  be  iron  in  their  blood  and 
strength  in  their  hearts.  Let  them  prepare  for  a  day  of 
defense." 

Oh!  how  timely  was  the  old  man's  warning  to  these — the 
great  builders — for  was  not  their  labor  rather  one  of  per- 
sonal interest  than  of  public  avail? 

And  thus  with  such  thoughts,  O'Rourke  in  his  fancy  wan- 
dered on  along  the  line  of  his  itinerary — down  around  the 
bend  of  the  American  frontier  with  its  triumph  of  the  Im- 
perial Valley — on  along  that  bloody  borderland  of  Mexican 
strife  and  discontent — a  borderland  which  darkened  up  like 
a  Chinese  wall  preventing  all  growth — all  development — all 
humanizing  in  the  world's  behalf,  in  those  rich  regions  of 
the  farther  South,  where  Indian  savagery  still  prevailed. 

What  would  be  our  duty  toward  those  weaker  races  of  the 
South — not  only  immediately  beyond  us,  but  still  farther 
on  down  between  the  meandering  lines  of  the  two  oceans 
which  had  by  American  cunning,  through  the  cleavage  of 
the  continent,  been  brought  to  a  mingling  of  their  waters? 
And  then  even  beyond  that  outpost  of  our  political  adven- 
ture, what  would  be  our  duty — toward  those,  the  other  na- 
tions of  the  Southern  Hemisphere,  to  which  we  were  so  close- 
ly united  by  the  needs  of  national  defense.  And  how  did 
those  nations — those  other  rich  nations  of  that  wonderland 
America  of  the  Southern  Cross  consider  us?  Had  we  in- 
spired its  Latin  molded  peoples  with  that  feeling  of  respect 
which  alone  make  nations  mutually  of  use  to  God  and  man- 
kind? 

O'Rourke  put  his  hands  up  to  his  head  as  if  to  shut  down 
the  working  of  his  mind  as  he  contemplated  the  enormity 
of  the  program  of  instruction  which  Ward  had  mapped  out 
for  him. 

Where  was  the  compass?  Where  was  the  chart?  What 
had  the  American  people  ever  done  to  forecast  their  future — 
their  duty?  What  had  been  the  actual  achievements  of  each 
administration  as  it  fell  or  rose  before  the  voice  of  the  peo- 
ple? Nothing  but  a  vacuous  doctrine  of  a  century  past, 
fatuitously  warning  European  nations  not  to  approach  our 
shores — and  another  short-breathed  after-dinner  declaration, 
warning  the  Eastern  world  that  the  gates  of  the  entrance 
to  their  harbors  should  be  open  to  all.  A  doctrine  and  a 
policy.  But  where  was  the  strength  to  make  them  respected  ? 


"SEE  AMERICA  FIRST"  221 

Where  were  the  armed  men— where  the  ships  and  mounted 
cannon  to  enforce  declarations  which  called  defiance  to  the 
whole  world? 

0 'Rourke  pressed  his  knuckles  up  to  his  temples  and  bent 
over — his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 

Then  he  rose  and  stood  upright — and  the  look  of  perplexity 
had  vanished  from  his  face;  courage  and  resolution  shown 
from  his  eyes. 


II 

SEE  AMERICA  FIRST 

Opening  his  hand  bag,  0  'Rourke  took  out  a  bundle  of  rail- 
road publications,  each  advertising  the  wonderful  and  al- 
ways unrivaled  attractions  of  a  particular  "Scenic  Route." 

As  a  practiced  writer,  he  smiled  once  or  twice  at  the 
phraseology,  but  wondered  at  the  extravagance  of  the  colored 
maps  and  illustrations  and  the  costliness  of  the  advertising 
guides  which  were  mostly  flouted  with  for  a  few  moments 
by  the  recipients  of  the  supposed  favor  and  then  tossed  aside 
to  be  swept  up  by  the  porter. 

The  slogan  of  all  of  the  whole  array  of  print  was  "See 
America  First." 

"Yes — see  America  first — and  why  not?"  reflected 
0 'Rourke.  "The  railroads  need  the  money  and,  of  course, 
the  traveler  should  shape  his  inclination  to  gratify  their  own 
particular  needs,  regardless  of  the  more  proper  advice  to 
' '  See  what  you  can,  either  at  home  or  abroad  as  your  pocket- 
book  allows,  and  your  inclination  in  life  prompts." 

One  of  the  pamphlets  fell  to  the  carpet  and  an  obliging 
individual  in  the  seat  opposite  picking  it  up  remarked  with 
a  smile: 

"It  would  be  better  if  the  railroads  put  a  wee  bit  more 
iron  in  their  rails  instead  of  spending  their  money  on  ex- 
pensive folders." 

0 'Rourke  returned  the  smile  of  the  stranger,  just  an  Amer- 
ican of  the  same  type,  which  are  numbered  by  millions  and 
which  by  their  adherence  to  a  given  mould  always  astonish 
the  foreigners  who  first  come  to  our  shores — the  same  smooth 
shaven  face,  the  same  cut  of  garments — the  same  style  of  col- 


222  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

lar  manufactured  a  billion  a  year — and  the  same  style  of 
hat  and  the  same  sameness  of  fashions  which  the  American 
follows  with  patient  doggedness  in  his  changing  season  wor- 
ship through  the  endless  labyrinth  of  conforming  to  style. 

"I  am  on  the  road  most  of  the  time,"  remarked  the 
stranger,  "and  I  have  never  yet  found  anything  in  those 
folders  worthy  of  thought,  and  being  very  fond  of  hundred 
pound  rails  and  good  rock  covered  ballast  beds,  instead  of 
cinder  beds,  I  begrudge  such  deflection  of  money  even  though 
the  amount  may  be  comparatively  small." 

It  was  an  invitation  for  an  argument  to  which  O'Rourke 
did  not  respond  and  he  returned  suggestively : 

"You  are  on  the  road  most  of  the  time?" 

"Yes.  Traveling  nearly  all  the  time  and  on  long  jumps. 
How's  business?" 

"Pretty  rotten,  thank  you,"  laughed  the  stranger. 
"Everything  was  already  going  to  the  bow  wows  when  the 
war  came  on  and  now  the  war  has  knocked  everything  bally- 
whack.  It  isn't  a  question  now  of  how  much  a  man  can 
make — it  is  a  question  of  how  little  he  may  lose.  We  are 
in  a  business  which  manufactures  a  real  necessity — but  now 
the  movies  and  the  autos  make  up  such  a  program  for  the 
American  people  that  they  cut  out  what  they  can  from  their 
necessities  to  enjoy  those  crazes." 

He  waited  for  O'Rourke  to  speak  and  then  ran  on: 

"So  I  think  that  this  will  be  my  last  trip  with  the  line 
of  merchandise  which  I  have  handled  for  twenty  years  and  I 
will  try  to  get  into  something  along  the  movie  or  the  auto 
line,  or  other  new  venture  that  the  big  combinations  haven't 
got  a  hold  of  yet." 

"Since  the  market  is  now  poor  here  in  America,  have  you 
ever  thought  of  going  abroad  for  business — say  in  South 
America?"  suggested  O'Rourke. 

"Yes,  often — but  it  is  so  far  off — and  what  little  informa- 
tion we  get  is  too  vague  to  act  upon.  I  am  sure,  however, 
if  we  could  ever  get  started  there  that  we  would  make  a  big 
success;  but  our  government  has  not  even  its  own  public 
policy  definitely  fixed  abroad — how  then  can  we  expect  it 
to  help  us  privately?" 

O'Rourke  reflected.  Here  was  one  of  his  fellow  citizens — 
an  apparently  intelligent  man — who  had  to  give  up  a  pro- 
ductive business  at  home,  and  who  was,  from  his  standpoint, 
denied  his  chance  abroad  because  his  government  would  not 
serve  his  interests. 


"SEE  AMERICA  FIRST"  223 

"I  have  often  wondered  why  we  as  Americans  are  not 
more  farsighted  in  seeking  business  chances  abroad — and 
particularly  now  since  the  European  War  takes  away  almost 
all  competition  in  South  America,  and,  except  for  the 
Japanese,  China  is  now  a  free  field  without  let  or  hindrance," 
remarked  O'Rourke. 

There  was  a  new  tone  in  the  stranger's  voice,  as  he  said: 

"It  is  because  we  are  too  American,  and  some  day  all  will 
awaken  to  the  fact  as  I  have.  I  am,"  he  continued,  bitterly, 
"a  man  who  up  to  middle  age  was  absolutely  successful  in 
a  trade  representation  which  I  never  thought  could  fail — 
and  now — now — I  am  making  my  last  trip — and  why?  Be- 
cause it  is  our  American  uncertainty  of  temperament.  .  .  . 
All  went  well  as  long  as  the  temper  of  the  people  was  in  a 
certain  direction  and  then  came  the  change  and — in  a  few 
years — we  were  lost.  Our  trouble  seems  to  be,"  he  added 
confidentially,  "in  not  being  able  to  standardize  our  national 
existence  so  as  to  make  it  last  over  a  single  decade.  "We 
change  our  modes  as  we  change  our  spirits  and  call  it  prog- 
ress. ' ' 

O'Rourke  listened.  "And  even  with  these  continual 
changes  we  are  'Chinafying'  ourselves,  for  we  only  think  of 
ourselves  and  nothing  of  the  world  about  us." 

O'Rourke  smiled. 

The  loquacious  one  hesitated  and  O'Rourke,  to  draw  him 
out,  asked:  "What  do  you  think  it  really  is— this  being  an 
American  ? ' ' 

"Thinking,  speaking  and  doing  just  like  every  other 
American,"  came  the  answer. 

The  men  glanced  at  one  of  the  folders  which  displayed  in 
large  letters :  "See  America  first, ' '  and  which  0 'Rourke  still 
held  in  his  hand. 

"That's  the  trouble — we  put  America  so  far  to  the  front, 
that  the  whole  of  the  stage  is  taken  up  and  we  can't  see 
anything  else  before  us.     A  book,  a  song,  a  play,  even  a 
kindergarten  rhyme  which  spreadeagles  is  a  success— no  mat- 
ter how  utterly  failing  it  may  otherwise  be;  but  on  the  con- 
trary   anyone  who  writes  or  speaks  the  most  sincere  crit 
cism  against  the  United  States  is  un-American  and  is  con- 
sidered offensively;  for  we  are  satisfied  with  ourselves  to  such 
an  extent  that  we  will  brook  no  suggestion  of  mterferei 
or  criticism."  ,, 

"You  seem  to  have  reflected  much  on  these  matters, 
marked  O'Rourke. 


224  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"Yes,  but  rather  late  in  life — in  fact — I  have  only  com- 
menced to  think  this  way  since  my  business  went  to  the  bad. 
You  see — I  prided  myself  on  being  one  of  the  real  wide- 
winged  sort  of  Americans,  who  would  deride  anything  that 
wasn't  American  and  screech  away  most  furiously  whenever 
any  chance  to  brag  about  America  came  up.  I  wonder  now 
that  I  could  have  ever  been  so  silly ;  but  one  day  the  change 
came  and  it  came  very  suddenly." 

"How  did  it  happen?" 

"Well,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  although  I  have  had 
chances  to  go  to  Europe,  I  had  never  gone,  because  T  always 
said  that  my  own  country  was  good  enough  for  me,  and  I 
rather  prided  myself  on  never  having  been  out  of  my  na- 
tive country,  except  of  course  on  those  obligatory  runs  that 
our  railroads  make  through  Canada  from  one  American  city 
to  another.  I  prided  myself  in  that  regard  a  good  deal  as 
some  men  do  who  have  never  used  tobacco  or  liquor.  I 
thought  it  was  a  virtue.  I  was  vainglorious  of  anything 
American  and  hated  anything  not  American,  and  followed 
around  on  my  trips  across  the  continent  perfectly  satisfied 
with  everything,  simply  because  it  was  American.  .  .  .  Well, 
early  this  spring  I  thought  that  I  would  run  down  to  Torreon 
from  El  Paso  with  the  idea  of  getting  an  army  contract  from 
the  Mexicans.  I  happened  to  get  there  just  as  they  had  one 
of  their  little  miserable  battles  on,  and  the  result  was  that 
I  was  robbed  of  everything  by  the  conquering  General  and 
had  to  flee  for  my  life.  It  took  me  two  weeks  and  twenty 
pounds  of  my  flesh  to  get  back  to  the  border.  I  immediately 
made  my  complaint  to  Washington,  expecting  that  there 
would  be  some  prompt  redress,  but  finally  my  attorney  in- 
formed me  that  nothing  could  be  done  because,  under  the 
policy  of  our  government,  it  was  impossible  to  obtain  redress 
when  an  American  citizen  had  exposed  himself  to  danger. 
'But  I  was  down  there  on  legitimate  business,'  I  declared 
to  my  attorney.  'Well,'  he  said,  'the  government  has  re- 
fused and  that  is  the  end  of  it.'  So  now  I  am  for  a  new 
America,  the  sort  of  an  America  that  can  give  as  well  as 
take  blows  and  that  can  protect  its  citizens  whether  at  home 
or  abroad  in  the  proper  conduct  of  their  business.  And  to 
do  this,  we  ought  to  know  what  is  going  on  abroad  as  much 
as  at  home." 

They  had  come  to  one  of  the  stations — one  of  the  last  as 
the  traveler  goes  westward — that  still  finds  something  of  the 


"SEE  AMERICA  FIRST"  225 

center  of  that  shifting  meeting  place  where  the  East  of  the 
Old  gives  way  to  the  New  of  the  West.  It  was  a  village 
neither  particularly  fair  nor  yet  particularly  common-place, 
scattering  out  its  streets  and  its  half  built  blocks,  in  the 
shambling  way  characteristic  of  those  older  American  towns 
of  the  plains  whose  ambitions  to  become  metropoli  were 
sometimes  dwarfed  before  the  ink  on  the  maps  of  their  sub- 
dividers  was  dry.  But  the  goldenest  fruit  of  all  nature — 
the  rich  wheat  of  a  fat  and  perfect  harvest  had  that  year — 
the  year  of  blood  and  war — crept  up  out  of  the  loamy 
soil,  in  glorious  abundance  and  the  faded,  pathetic,  strag- 
gling lines  of  the  little  village,  to  O'Rourke  became  glori- 
fied by  the  fullness  of  the  part  it  was  playing  to  keep  the 
peaceful  parts  of  the  world  in  surfeit  and  content.  The  long 
processions  of  the  freight  cars  whose  original  ugly  colors  had 
faded  even  uglier  into  muddy  tints  of  dun  and  drab,  be- 
came to  him  things  of  beauty  as  they  waited  by  the  sides 
of  the  elevators  to  receive  their  burden  of  grain.  Yes — 
here  they  were  reaping — reaping  the  golden  harvest  of  a  well 
requited  labor — while  over  yonder  in  that  land  he  had  just 
left — the  land  of  war  and  death — the  forsaken  fields  were 
drenched  with  blood  and  the  harvest,  the  only  harvest,  was 
that  of  death's  own  garnering. 

"Ah,"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  as  the  comparison  dawned  in 
its  contrast  clearly  upon  him.  "Ah,  but  it  is  glorious — 
this  land  of  peace  and  plenty.  .  .  .  See  all  this  harvest  al- 
ready gathered,  and  the  fields  beyond  still  hang  heavy  with 
the  golden  grain.  Ah!  what  a  glorious  country — even  in 
this  small  village  showing  the  fruits  of  well  requited  toil 
and  the  promise  of  years  of  peace  and  plenty  to  come. 
Should  we  not  be  thankful  that  there  is  in  the  nature  of  our 
land,  and  much  in  the  hearts  of  our  people  to  make  such 
scenes  of  prosperity  an  actual  living  example  of  the  folly  of 
war? 

"Peace  is  glorious,"  murmured  O'Rourke,  as  his  thoughts 
still  went  on. 

The  voice  of  the  stranger  sounded  cynically. 

' '  I,  too,  at  one  time  thought  as  you — that  peace  and  abun- 
dance meant  the  strength  of  a  nation — that  when  the  earth 
brought  forth — that  all  should  have  their  share  of  the  bounty 
— but  now  I  believe  that  condition  is  changed — ,  it  is  no 
longer  a  question  of  resignedly  eating  bread  in  the  sweat  of 
the  brow,  but  by  gathering  the  bread  by  the  strength  of  the 


226  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

hand.  .  .  .  The  nations  of  Europe  fight  today  that  they  may 
be  assured  of  peace  tomorrow — while  we,  living  along  idly 
and  lulled  by  a  false  sense  of  safety,  may  be  plucked  aside 
when  we  least  expect." 

The  train  rolled  on  out  of  the  village  and  gathered  its 
speed  on  down  through  the  yellow  fields  of  uncut  grain  and 
the  white  stretches  of  brown  stubble. 

"It  is  the  Valley  of  the  Red  River — the  valley  which,  com- 
mencing here  in  this  land  of  peace  and  prosperity,  spreads 
northward  into  that  other  Northern  land,  now  under  the 
cloud  of  the  war  and  whose  sons  are  leaving  the  harvests 
of  the  golden  grain  to  go  forth  into  the  death  harvest  of 
battle." 

0  'Rourke  was  talking  as  to  himself ;  but  the  stranger  heard 
and  when  he  had  finished  spoke : 

"But  do  you  not  know  that  we,  too,  are  fighting  this  war — 
that  this  very  grain  which  you  see  harvested  before  your  eyes, 
will  go  to  give  comfort  to  the  warring  nation  that  can  pay 
for  it  and  take  it  away — and  that  the  bone  and  blood  of  the 
men  who  make  guns  to  destroy  men,  will  be  fed  by  this  same 
wheat  ?  Ah — the  folly  for  us  to  appear  to  be  a  neutral  peace- 
ful people." 

0 'Rourke  did  not  answer.  Perhaps  he  did  not  hear  all  of 
what  was  said,  but  a  part  still  echoed  to  him  from  his  own 
thought.  He  stood  there  in  the  vestibule  of  the  train  look- 
ing out  upon  the  valley — the  valley  that  wended  Northward, 
with  its  river  that  flowed  away  from  the  sunshine  of  the 
South  to  the  frozen  fastness  of  the  North.  The  stranger 
left  him  and  yet  he  stood  till  the  gloaming  came  and  then 
the  night — and  pondered,  the  words  of  the  cynic  still  ring- 
ing in  his  ears,  coupling  themselves  from  time  to  time  with 
that  last  injunction  of  Ward. 

"Show  them  that  they  are  soft — that  to  enjoy  peace  they 
must  prepare  for  wTar, "  and  finally  as  they  rattled  over  the 
span  of  the  Red  River — and  as  the  lights  of  Fargo  flashed 
through  the  window  of  the  car,  he  steadied  himself  and, 
bowing  his  head  as  if  taking  an  obligation,  he  murmured, 
"God  helping  me  I  will— I  will." 


A  COINCIDENCE  OF  TRAVEL  227 


III 
A  COINCIDENCE  OF  TRAVEL 

In  the  early  morning  of  the  next  day  O'Rourke  looked 
out  from  the  window  upon  the  strange  contortions  of  rock 
and  earth  which  marked  the  expanse  of  the  Bad  Land's  do- 
main, whose  dreariness  and  sinister  appearance  even  the 
euphonious  name  of  Pyramid  Park  cannot  dispel,  but  forever 
wonderful  in  its  orphanage  in  the  lap  of  Nature.  He  was 
the  first  one  in  the  observation  car.  Idly  he  followed  the 
panorama  of  the  hills  and  buttes  that  wriggled  up  out  of 
the  plains.  By  the  time  they  had  come  to  Pompey's  Pillar 
the  observation  car  was  filling  with  passengers,  the  cynic  at 
length  appearing. 

"Along  the  line  of  our  American  talk  of  war  and  misery 
yesterday, ' '  he  remarked,  "it  is  quite  a  coincidence  that  we 
apparently  have  on  the  train  an  European  noblewoman. 
She  has  all  of  the  sections  in  my  Pullman  reserved  for  the 
exclusive  use  of  herself  and  her  servants."  He  laughed  and 
added,  ' '  Evidently  milady  does  not  think  much  of  American 
train  companions  for  she  has  not  once  left  her  state  room, 
although  her  companion  and  maid  and  man  servant  seem 
to  be  quite  busy  attending  to  her  wants." 

O  'Rourke  suppressed  a  yawn. 

The  matter  did  not  interest  him.  He  never  did  care  for 
small  talk  anyhow. 

After  awhile  he  arose  and  went  into  one  of  the  smoking 
rooms. 

He  seated  himself,  taking  a  magazine  and  lighting  a  cigar. 

During  the  short  time  that  he  was  there,  someone  came  and 
went.  ...  He  did  not  look  up  to  see,  but  after  a  few  mo- 
ments suddenly  found  placed  almost  directly  before  him  a 
magazine — not  one  of  those  in  its  leather  folder — such  as 
the  railroad  supplied— but  a  very  new  magazine  lying  face 
downward — as  though  someone  had  turned  it  over  to  hold 
a  place  in  its  reading.  .  .  . 

Mechanically — hardly  thinking  what  he  did— and  not  at 
all  for  the  moment  wondering  why  the  magazine  should  have 
been  left  so  close  to  him,  by  some  one  perhaps  who  had 
just  left  the  compartment,  0  'Rourke  thrust  aside  the  month- 
is 


228  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

ly  he  was  reading  and  took  up  the  other,  ...  at  the  page 
where  it  was  left  open. 

A  photograph  stared  out  at  him — the  face  of  a  man  he 
well  knew  by  name, — the  face  of  a  foreigner — who  had  en- 
tered closely  into  his  life.  .  .  .  All  awake  he  read  the  in- 
scription underneath. 

"Dom  Pedro  Araldo,  multi-millionaire,  who  was  killed  by 
snipers  while  the  guest  of  French  army  officers  on  the  Aisne 
front.  His  widow,  the  famed  prima  donna,  former  wife  of 
Timothy  O'Rourke,  distinguished  American  author,  has  left 
France  for  permanent  residence  in  America.  The  will  of 
the  deceased  makes  her  one  of  the  richest  of  women." 

O'Rourke 's  cigar  dropped  from  his  fingers  to  the  floor; 
limply  he  fell  back  into  the  chair. 

What!  his  former  wife — now  a  widow  and  traveling  in 
America ! 

"Bah — it's  nothing  to  me,"  he  finally  asserted.  "1  am 
sorry  for  her  loss  and  wish  her  well,  and  I  am  sure  that  she 
will  be  discreet  enough  never  to  let  our  paths  cross." 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  while  memories  poured  back  upon 
him. 

He  tried  to  prevent  it — but  still  the  flood  of  recollection 
burst  out — and  in  a  moment  the  comparison  was  there — 
those  two  women,  .  .  .  the  one  who  had  been  his  wife,  whom 
he  for  the  love  of  her  art  in  the  guilessness  of  his  youth  had 
protected  and  advanced  and  educated  until  she  had  become 
the  first  prima  donna  of  all  Europe.  Oh !  the  sacrifices  that 
he  had  made  to  elevate  her  to  greatness;  and  when  at  last 
it  had  come,  only,  did  he  see  her  as  she  was — a  woman  genius, 
unsexed  it  seemed  by  ambition  and  desire  for  public  recog- 
nition. But  through  it  all  she  had  been  a  good  woman — 
that  softened  his  heart  toward  her — she  had  been  good  as 
far  as  woman's  chastity  goes,  in  all  her  scheming,  as  rung 
after  rung  she  had  climbed  the  frail  shaking  ladder  of  suc- 
cess. Yes — for  her  he  would  never  have  anything  but  good 
wishes.  .  .  . 

But  compared  to  the  other —  How  different !  .  .  .  Athena 
with  a  nature  as  delicate  as  an  orchid's  fragrance  and  a 
heart  as  effusive  as  a  mountain  rill.  He  was  glad  that  he 
had  been  thus  forewarned  by  that  mysterious  magazine. 
Now  he  would  be  able  to  follow  her  comings  and  goings  and 
thus  avoid  her.  He  was  sure  that  she  would  not  seek  him 
out.  .  .  .  Now  that  she  was  famous  and  rich  she  would  have 


229 

the  distraction  of  great  social  pursuits — her  comings  and  go- 
ings would  be  forever  heralded  in  the  papers — she  would  he 
adulated  as  a  genius  and  a  woman  of  fabulous  wealth.  Yes — 
she  evidently  considered  money,  success,  and  he  was  glad  for 
her  in  its  possession. 

With  a  lurch  of  the  train  a  tall,  overgroomed  figure  ap- 
peared at  the  compartment. 

O'Rourke  gave  a  start.  ...  It  was  the  same  man  who  had 
waited  behind  him  when  he  had  bought  his  ticket  at  New 
York;  he  could  never  mistake  him;  the  same  relaxed,  per- 
fectly composed  face,  but  with  shifting  eyes  as  if  listening 
to  a  command.  .  .  .  But  it  was  the  same — the  same;  so  for- 
eign in  appearance  in  spite  of  his  American  ready  made 
expensive  suit — ,  he  was  probably  French — or  Latin  at  all 
events. 

The  man  inclined  himself  slightly — then  stiffened  and  with 
a  military  precision  and  order  of  gesture,  tendered  O'Rourke 
a  sealed  letter  with  his  name  addressed  in  a  hand  which  he 
well  knew. 

As  in  a  trance  he  slowly  worked  it  open  and  read : 

"Now  that  you  know  that  I  am  free — please  follow  my 
man  to  me.  I  am  traveling  incognito.  PRIMA." 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did,  O'Rourke  followed  the  man. 

She  stood  looking  out  from  between  two  curtains  which 
she  had  caused  to  be  hung  up  in  the  section  to  further  add 
to  her  privacy.  They  were  not  the  ordinary  Pullman 
draperies — coarse  and  heavy  and  made  to  wear,  .  .  .  but 
light  swinging  draperies  of  a  gauzy  yet  opaque  cloth  which, 
by  the  subduance  of  the  light,  made  even  the  tawdry,  garish 
interior  of  the  train  apartment  look  pleasing. 

For  a  moment  in  the  sudden  change  from  the  glare  of  the 
barren  highlands  to  the  rose-like  softness  of  her  shaded 
reservation,  he  did  not  perceive  her  as  she  peered  out  at 
him  from  the  draperies,  while  he  stood  breathing  in  the  fra- 
grance of  the  fresh  flowers  which  were  banked  about  the 
walls  as  thick  as  in  a  garden.  He  found  himself  wondering 
just  for  a  moment  at  the  extravagance  of  the  costly  floral 
display. 

Then  the  curtains  opened  wider  and  he  saw  her,  .  .  . 
saw  her  standing  full  before  him;  the  light  from  without  sil- 
houetting the  white  of  her  shapely  arms  setting  the  beauty 
of  her  face  in  a  cameo  relief  against  the  shadow  on  the  vel- 
vet drape  beyond.  .  .  .  Never  had  she  appeared  more  lovely 


230  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

to  him;  standing  there  her  hair — the  hair  he  knew  so  well 
with  its  texture  of  silk  and  its  glow  of  gold  and  ebon — 
wound  with  studied  carelessness  about  her  smooth  white 
brow,  lightly  shading  those  eyes  of  wondrous  depth,  now.  as 
full  and  open  and  innocent  as  woodland  violets. 

He  looked  spellbound — breathing  deeply  of  the  heavy  yet 
exhiliarating  air  fragrant  with  the  breath  of  rose  and  orchid. 
Her  simple  garments  of  heavily  embroidered  linen  and  costly 
lace  whose  clinging  lines  caressing  her  graceful  form,  stif- 
fened here  and  there  with  half  concealed  ribbons  of  silk, 
brought  out  the  perfect  cast  of  her  limb  and  body,  as  she 
lightly  balanced  herself  with  the  movement  of  the  train. 

Neither  spoke — but  both  stood  looking  at  each  other — not 
wonderingly — for  there  was  a  defiance  in  his  look  which 
brought  from  her  first  a  mute  expression  of  defense  .... 
then  only  of  appeal,  softening  the  tense  expression  on  her 
face.  Her  only  sign  of  emotion  was  the  heaving  breast  whose 
alabaster  lines  beneath  the  shapely  throat  played  in  shadows 
with  the  rise  and  fall  of  her  breath. 

She  had  both  hands  gathered  up  on  a  level  with  her  head. 
He  watched  them,  as  the  shapely  fingers — with  nails  like  rose 
petals,  deep  and  perfect — but  with  none  of  the  vulgar  over 
gloss  of  hair-shop  manicures — dug  the  curtains  into  creases 
and  folds.  .  .  .  There  was  none  of  her  wealth  of  jewels  upon 
them — only  a  thin  little  bracelet,  his  first  gift  to  her — clung 
pathetically  to  that  wondrous  arm — as  though  the  gold  itself 
was  in  adoration  of  the  warmer  beauty  of  her  olive  skin. 

His  eyes  rested  long  on  the  bracelet,  and  there  was  tender- 
ness in  his  glance,  .  .  .  but  when  he  again  looked  at  her  a 
new  defiance  shot  forth  before  which  her  own  eyes  dropped. 

"Well!"  came  his  voice — heavy  in  its  challenge. 

She  winced  and  then  in  a  moment — broke  out  into  a  rip- 
ple of  subdued  laughter  and  motionirfg  him  further,  closed 
the  door  behind  them,  .  .  .  then  after  she  had  let  her  laugh- 
ter spend  itself  in  musical  ripples,  throwing  herself  down  on 
the  couch  opposite  him  she  began: 

"Ah,  my  poor  little  lamb.  So  you  are  afraid  that  I  have 
followed  you  to  steal  you.  N'est  ce  pas?  Ha!  Ha!  Ha! 
Can't  a  clever  author  like  you — a  romancer,  ever  believe  that 
coincidences  may  actually  sometime  happen  in  real  life  as 
you  make  them  happen  in  your  novels?  Ha!  Ha!  can  you 
not  believe  that  our  happening  to  be  on  this  same  train  to- 
gether is  a  perfectly  natural  coincidence.  Bah !  By  the  way 


A  COINCIDENCE  OF  TRAVEL  231 

you  looked  at  me  just  now,  anyone  would  think  that  you  be- 
lieved that  I  might  be  interested  in  you.  Ah —  No Ha! 

Ha!  my  little  sheep — mon  petit  mouton — do  not  fear.  The 
cruel  lady  who  followed  you  and  loved  you  so  long  has  now 
rather  forgotten  you.  Do  you  not  know  that  she  has  become 
quite  one  of  the  richest  women  and  that  she  could  buy  this 
whole  railroad  system  and  a  big  slice  of  your  wild  America 
and  then  have  enough  to  spare?  Bah—  Your  conceit  is 
quite  insufferable." 

She  paused. 

"See  here — Monsieur  O'Rourke — do  you  not  think  that 
the  look  you  just  now  gave  me  was  quite  unpardonable,  par- 
ticularly to  one  like  myself,  who,  as  you  know,  judges  hu- 
manity more  by  looks  and  actions  than  by  words." 

O'Rourke  raised  his  hand  protestingly  and  murmured,  "I 
meant  no  disrespect." 

She  gave  him  a  long,  piercing  glance  and  her  dry  throat 
pulsed  and  throbbed — but  he  did  not  realize  her  perturba- 
tion, for  she  quickly  covered  it  with  a  laugh. 

"Ha!  Ha!  Monsieur  meant  no  disrespect.  What  a  com- 
plaisant gentleman  he  is  getting  to  be —  No  disrespect— 
Ha!  Ha!  so  he  confesses  that  he  did  think  that  I  was  fol- 
lowing to  steal  him — the  poor  dear  little  lamb." 

She  tapped  the  floor  with  her  shapely  foot  from  whose 
slipper  came  the  gleam  of  clustered  diamonds.  And  then 
with  a  sudden  resolution  turned  to  him,  throwing  off  her 
bantering  Latin  way — 

"See  here,  Tim!  Don't  you  know  that  everything  is  ab- 
solutely all  over  with  us  as  far  as  sentiment  is  concerned, 
but  that  we  still  may  have  each  others'  respect  and  can  be 
as  brother  and  sister?  Are  you  going  to  be  a  cad — and  re- 
fuse to  help  me  forget  the  troubles  I  have  been  through — 
and  comfort  me  on  this  maddening  rail  journey  by  a  little 
well  behaved  and  formal  society? 

He  looked  at  her  askance  as  she  continued : 

"0,  there  you  go — the  only  hard  words  I  ever  said  to  you 
were  when  you  would  get  into  those  obstinate  moods." 

She  squared  herself  around  toward  him. 

"What — do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  will  not  offer 
me — with  a  whole  heart — your  attention  and  assistance  on 
this  journey — as  you  would  to  the  most  casual  sort  of  a  decent 
woman  traveling  entirely  alone?  Is  all  your  old  boasted 
American  gallantry  gone — and  I,  a  foreigner  and  stranger 


232  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

in  this,  your  much  vaunted  native  land,  where  a  woman's 
word  is  law?" 

O'Rourke  still  leaned  over  with  bowed  head,  his  hands 
upon  his  knees — silent. 

She  gave  a  little  wave  of  the  hands  to  conceal  her  impa- 
tience and  then  rested  one  knee  up  lightly  on  the  edge  of  the 
opposite  seat  and  with  one  hand  upon  her  side,  leaned  the 
other  hand  against  the  wall. 

Suddenly  the  train  gave  a  light  roll  and  lurch  and  she 
was  pitched  over  upon  him. 

"Any  harm  done?"  he  asked  sympathetically,  as  he  helped 
her  up. 

She  nursed  her  knee  reflectively  for  a  moment  and  then 
smilingly  said: 

"No — just  a  slight  knee  bruise — no  harm  I  am  sure  and 
perhaps  some  good." 

She  saw  that  he  was  thawing. 

"Yes,  good — for  do  you  know  that  your  little  help  and 
sympathy  just  now — relieves  me  a  great  deal — for  I  am  sure 
that  your  old  kindness  toward  everyone  is  still  alive — and," 
she  waved  her  hand,  "now  we  are  sure  that  there  is  none  of 
the  ancient  sentiment — left — that  it  has  been  killed — been 
absolutely  annihilated. ' ' 

"Sure,  you  say?"  asked  O'Rourke. 

"Yes — "  she  responded  with  a  positive  dip  of  her  chin. 
"Yes,  absolutely." 

"Why?"  asked  O'Rourke. 

"Well — you  know  how  much  attention  I  pay  to  little 
things — how  my  whole  life  has  been  one  of  drawing  conclu- 
sions from  details?" 

"Now,"  she  continued  to  explain,  "when  I  was  just  a 
moment  ago  thrown  into  your  arms  and  we  were  all  mixed 
up  together  in  the  mishap,  had  I  had  any  sentiment  toward 
you,  I  am  sure  that  I  would  have  felt  it.  I  know  that  you 
have  none,  for  were  it  so,  I  would  immediately  know.  I  un- 
derstand you  so  well." 

O'Rourke  sighed. 

"Yes — it  is  true.    We  have  known  each  other  very  well." 

"Yes — and  in  a  lover  way,  which  is  now  passed — but  why 
can't  we  still  be  friends — at  least  until  the  horrid  journey 
is  over.  Why  can't  we  be  traveling  companions — now  that 
we  are  sure  that  the  other  is  all  over?" 

O'Rourke  quickly  reflected.     "Yes,  why  not?"     He  knew 


A  COINCIDENCE  OF  TRAVEL  233 

that  he  did  not  care  for  her — and  since  evidently  she  didn't 
care  for  him,  what  could  be  the  harm  in  showing  a  little  at- 
tention to  her  needs  on  the  journey  ?  He  was  quite  sure  that 
Athena  would  approve  of  it — really  he  had  been  foolish  in 
his  boorish  manner  toward  his  former  wife  and,  although 
the  situation  was  very  novel,  it  was  at  all  events  eminently 
respectable  and  proper. 

Still  there  was  something  in  O'Rourke  which  rebelled. 
She  hurried  on,  noting  his  hesitation. 

"And  then  I  can  perhaps  be  of  some  use  to  you — that 
is — if  you  are  anything  like  you  used  to  be — always  getting 
people's  opinions  and  viewpoints — for  here  I,  a  French 
woman  in  this  new  land — may  look  at  things  from  an  angle 
which  may  interest  you." 

That  settled  O'Rourke.  He  saw  the  opportunity.  She — 
the  brilliant  woman  whose  mind,  adaptable  as  quick  silver, 
ran  at  a  gallop  and  worked  like  lightning — she  with  her 
broad  minded  impressionableness — how  useful  her  compan- 
ionship could  be  to  him  in  trying  to  find  out  the  real  tem- 
per of  the  American  people.  .  .  .  Customs,  habits,  manners, 
ways  new  to  her  but  old  to  him,  would  come  under  her  ob- 
servation ;  her  lightest  comment  would  prove  another  straw  to 
show  him  how  the  political  weather  vane  might  turn,  .  .  . 
the  man  trying  to  take  the  blood  pressure  of  the  whole  Amer- 
ican people.  .  .  .  There  was  no  brain,  he  argued,  that  could 
be  more  helpful  to  him,  even  if  it  was  that  of  a  woman.  Of 
a  natural  deep  analytic  mind  she  had  from  her  girlhood 
studied  history  and  politics  much  as  other  girls  had  read 
novels  and  romances,  and  had  profoundly  cultivated  her 
thought  in  a  wide  width  of  the  broad  field  of  human  en- 
deavor. One  day  when  asked  how  she  interpreted  her  his- 
toric grand  opera  roles  with  such  deep  feeling,  he  remem- 
bered that  she  had  replied : 

"When  I  sing  I  must  not  only  feel  the  heart  beats  of  the 
role  itself,  but  the  whole  racial  tradition  which  set  that  heart 
in  motion." 

Yes — she  would  be  of  great  use  to  him,  ...  for  not  only 
was  she  familiar  with  the  world's  history  as  none  other  whom 
he  had  ever  known,  but  as  a  persistent  newspaper  reader  m 
the  several  languages  which  she  spoke  to  perfection,  she  was 
really,  he  was  sure,  more  familiar  on  current  questions  than 
he  himself,  particularly  now  since  her  retirement  from  the 
triumphs  of  the  operatic  stage,  she  had  sufficient  leisure  to 


234  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

indulge  in  her  passion  for  political  study,  doubly  excited  by 
reason  of  the  epoch  making  inspirations  of  Europe's  war  of 
carnage.  Although  she  had  only  appeared  in  America  twice, 
she  had  always,  on  account  of  her  marriage  to  O'Rourke, 
been  deeply  interested  in  that  country,  and  her  comparative 
ideas  would  be  consequently  of  very  great  benefit  to  him. 

His  decision  was  sudden  but  irrevocably  conclusive. 

"Please  consider  me  at  your  service,"  he  said  quite  simply. 

A  look  of  joy  overspread  her  face,  but  suppressing  it  as 
she  for  a  moment  stooped  down  for  a  flower,  she  drew  the 
costly  orchid  through  his  lapel. 

"I  accept  your  service  and  declare  you  my  companion 
knight  errant." 


IV 

"BIG  AMERICA" 

They  were  at  luncheon,  served  privately  in  one  of  her 
compartments. 

She  waved  her  hand  toward  a  great  waste  of  land  upon 
whose  rocky  soil  the  skeletons  of  struggling,  withering  shrubs 
blended  their  grey  with  the  dreary  tone  of  the  arid  plains 
as  they  reached  out  and  upward  to  the  distant  mountains. 

"I  suppose  that  here  in  America  you  are  even  proud  that 
your  deserts  are  big,"  she  remarked,  as  she  surveyed  the 
scene. 

The  thought  cut  O'Rourke,  but  he  let  her  go  on. 

"Yes — that's  what  impresses  me  more  than  anything  else 
in  America — your  idea  of  the  perfect  is  anything  big.  If  a 
mountain  is  big — even  if  it  has  nothing  to  charm  the  eye  and 
is  a  detriment  rather  than  a  benefit  in  its  arid  mass  to  the 
country  about — then  to  you  it  is  pleasing;  if  a  river  looks 
big,  in  a  watery  expanse,  no  matter  how  shallow  and  ugly 
it  is,  it  is  wonderful,  because  it  seems  big.  A  building;  a 
street,  a  man,  even  a  potato  must  be  with  you  big,  in  order 
to  be  excellent.  Bigness  with  you  is  the  all-in-all  desirabil- 
ity of  life — and  in  seeking  bigness  you  find  your  ideals  in 
mere  size  and  quantity. 

She  laughed. 

"I  don't  know  how  many  times  I  have  been  told  by  Amer- 


"BIG  AMERICA"  235 

leans  I  have  met  how  many  small,  insignificant  countries  like 
France  or  England  or  Germany  your  big  United  States  could 
hold  and  now  that  I  see  what  your  great  West  is,  I  don't 
wonder  that  you  fix  on  bigness  as  your  great  desideratum — 
for  just  mere  bigness — is  much  of  all  that  you  have  in  this 
much  vaunted  land." 

0  'Rourke  winced.  She  noticed,  and  seemingly  enjoyed  his 
discomfiture,  for  she  quickly  continued: 

"Ah,  now  you  see  in  just  one  little  particular  where  your 
ideals  of  bigness  have  failed  to  hold  entirely  to  the  big  plan 
you  set  up  for  everything  about  you — you  the  great  big  peo- 
ple— with  the  great  big  rivers  and  the  great  big  mountains 
and  the  great  big  cities  with  the  great  big  buildings — and  a 
great  many  other  big  things,  not  to  forget  the  great  big 
tasteless  potatoes,  .  .  .  you  haven't  yet  made  yourself  big 
enough  to  stand  a  little  criticism.  You  have  made  your 
country  appear  so  big  that  you  yourself  seem  very  small — 
for  your  country  is  really  too  big  for  you  and  you  have 
never  grown  up  to  it  and  it  doesn't  seem  if  you  keep  on 
in  your  present  narrow-minded,  self-sufficient  way  that  you 
ever  will." 

O 'Rourke  nervously  toyed  with  his  fork. 

"See,"  she  continued,  "it  makes  your  cheeks  flush  to  have 
me  talk  that  way — but  it  is  good  for  you — it  is  good  for  all 
Americans  to  have  deductions  made  concerning  them — that 
is  to  say,  if  there  is  really  such  a  thing  as  identifying  any- 
one as  an  American. 

0 'Rourke  collected  himself  and  let  her  continue. 

"Yes,  what  is  an  American?  Naturally  one  would  think 
that  it  was  any  person  born  in  North,  Central  or  South 
America — but  this  you  deny  and  declare  that  you — you  the 
great  big  people  of  the  U.  S.  A.,  with  all  these  great  big 
things  are  the  only  real  article — that  you  alone  are  the  sole 
Americans  on  the  whole  American  continent." 

0  'Rourke  wondered  that  during  the  entire  period  of  their 
married  life  she  had  never  thus  before  expressed  herself. 
She  seemed  to  divine  his  thought  and  continued  as  in  ex- 
planation. 

' '  Oh,  it  takes  courage  on  the  part  of  even  a  French  woman 
to  'size  up,'  as  you  call  it,  these  Great  Big  States.    When 
I  was  working  for  success— and  then  only  out  of  deference 
to  the  dear  American  gentleman  who  was  my  husband- 
never  talked  any  sort  of  politics— but  now,  for  your  own 


236  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

good  as  my  gracious  traveling  companion,  and  to  compen- 
sate you  for  your  companionship — I  feel  that  it  is  my  duty 
to  tell  you  something  about  what  I  think  of  this  great  big 
country. ' ' 

"Well,  what  are  your  conclusions?"  asked  O'Rourke,  try- 
ing to  force  a  smile. 

"Well,  as  to  your  people — I  won't  have  to  say  much,  for 
even  in  our  school  books  we  learn  as  children  that  out  of 
every  ten  great  big  American  citizens,  there  is  always  one 
who  is  a  Negro.  Of  course  the  Negro  is  not  considered  to 
be  very  large,  but  some  day  you  will  find  out  that  he  is  quite 
a  big  fellow,  big  enough  to  be  reckoned  with;  .  .  .  then  as 
to  the  other  American  citizens,  there  are  two  or  three  who 
are  not  much  better  than  Negroes — and  there  you  have  it — 
the  great  American  people — who  even  haven't  got  enough 
patriotism  to  have  a  decent  army,  and  whose  few  little  sol- 
diers are  paid  like  our  laborers  at  home, — so  much  by  the 
hour  for  their  sterling  services. 

It  was  hard,  but  O'Rourke  still  listened. 

"And  then  as  to  your  country.  It  all  seems  to  me  that 
when  God  got  around  to  making  America  he  used  only  his 
roughest  tools,  for  there  is  not  yet  a  single  finished,  com- 
pleted effect  that  I  have  seen  in  all  your  much  boasted  na- 
ture. Even  the  color  effects  of  your  landscapes  seem  to  be 
laid  on  with  a  whitewash  broom  rather  than  a  brush." 

"Wait  until  you  see  the  Yellowstone  Park,"  returned 
O'Rourke,  recovering  himself. 

"Yes,  I  will  wait — and  in  the  meantime.  I  will  say  no 
more — for  I  think  that  you  have  had  enough  for  to-day— 
your  face  is  as  red  as  a  red  pippin  and  you  actually  look  as 
if  you  wished  that  I  was  a  man  so  that  you  might  strike  me. ' ' 

O'Rourke  attempted  a  laugh.  In  the  silence  which  fol- 
lowed, his  reflections  were  active. 

Poignant  as  was  his  feeling  at  the  diatribe,  he  reflected 
that  she  was  the  product  of  the  oldest,  civilization  of  the 
Occident,  a  patrician  of  the  Latin  races  whose  blood  still 
beat  with  the  impulses  of  the  ancient  Romans.  Her  French 
point  of  view,  although  it  was  embittered  against  Americans 
for  some  cause  which  he  could  not  divine,  would  be  valuable 
to  him.  .  .  .  He  calmed  himself  and  resolved  to  get  what- 
ever benefit  he  could  from  her  deep  witted  criticism. 

He  looked  toward  her  in  answer  to  a  laugh. 

With  her  fork  she  was  hammering  away  upon  the  jacket 


AN  AMERICAN  SOLDIER  237 

of  a  giant  potato  which  had  just  been  placed  before  her  on 
the  table. 

"Ha!  Ha!"  she  laughed.  "See  how  truthfully  I  have 
spoken — for  I  was  just  reading  from  the  bill  of  fare  how 
this  railroad  was  noted  for  what?  not  for  its  safe  means  of 
transportation,  not  for  its  comfort  and  convenience;  but  for 
its  'great  big  baked  potatoes.'  Ha!  Ha!  is  it  not  ridiculous. 
Big  and  baked  at  that !  Isn  't  it  a  wonderful  combination  ? ' ' 

Daintily,  without  touching  the  vegetable  with  her  fingers, 
she  dug  with  her  fork  deep  down  into  it — and  her  lips 
showed  full  and  red  against  the  white  pulp  of  the  tuber  as 
she  nibbled  it. 

' '  Tastes  quite  savage  like — something  like  a  boiled-out  din- 
ner of  wild  herbs.  Now,  in  France  you  know  how  we  used 
to  love  our  little  potatoes — those  savory  little  ones,  the  ones 
I  used  to  cook  for  you,  those  delicious  little  ones  which  the 
gardener,  instead  of  trying  to  grow  merely  big  and  mam- 
moth, tried  to  cultivate  into  richness  of  flavor." 

She  mockingly  sighed  and  then  added. 

"Oh — what  treason  it  must  be  here  in  this  land  of  big- 
ness not  to  rave  over  things  just  because  they  are  big.  Oh! 
A  kingdom  for  some  real  little,  small  potatoes  in  this  giant 
land,  ravishing  with  its  bigness." 

And  she  waved  her  hand  in  an  expression  of  mock  despair 
and  laughed  a  long,  rippling  laugh,  in  which,  however, 
O'Rourke  did  not  very  heartily  join. 


V 
AN  AMERICAN  SOLDIER 

Dom  Pedro's  widow  was  very  agreeable  on  the  rest  of  the 
way  to  Livingstone,  where  they  were  to  leave  the  main  line 
to  enter  the  Park  at  Gardner.  Although  she  did  not  say  so 
in  actual  words,  her  manner  indicated. 

"Excuse  me,  please.  I  know  that  I  was  very  nasty  in 
criticising  your  America  as  I  did,  but  I  had  a  reason,  .  .  . 
I  had  a  reason." 

What  her  reason  could  have  been  O'Rourke  never  tried 
to  divine,  counterbalancing  the  effect  of  the  national  insult 
by  thinking  that  this  original  minded  genius  of  a  woman 


238  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

was  at  all  events  giving  him  new  angles  of  thought,  which 
might  eventually  serve  him  in  his  great  purpose. 

It  was  only  when  they  left  the  train  at  Livingstone,  that 
he  again  saw  the  mysterious  man  servant  who  had  delivered 
the  note,  and  whom  he  was  already  beginning  to  doubt  he 
had  seen  at  New  York,  so  plausible  had  been  Prima's  ex- 
planation of  the  coincidence  of  the  meeting,  Prima  being  the 
name  by  which  he  always  thought  of  her  and  the  nickname 
which  he  had  given  her  in  the  first  year  of  their  acquaint- 
ance, in  recognition  of  her  ambition  to  become  a  Prima 
Donna. 

This  time  the  man  servant,  trim  and  militarily  immacu- 
late in  the  blouse,  cap  and  leggings  of  a  Parisian  chauffeur, 
sat  at  the  wheel  of  a  great  touring  car. 

Prima  eyed  it  rather  disdainfully  and  then  explained: 

"I  had  to  leave  my  own  French  car  at  New  York.  It  was 
impossible  to  get  it  here  on  time.  This  is  just  one  they  have 
provided  me  with.  Pity  that  they  couldn't  have  done  any 
better." 

She  hesitated  before  getting  in  and  then  further  explained : 

"Now  you  will  know  the  real  reason  why  I  have  asked 
you  to  be  with  us — for  you  are  the  only  one  of  my  party  who 
knows  anthing  about  this  part  of  America.  Please  give  the 
man  directions  as  to  what  he  is  to  do.  You  now  see  how 
helpless  I  should  be  without  you." 

She  turned  to  a  cultivated  elderly  looking  woman  whom 
O'Rourke  had  not  as  yet  noted  as  being  a  member  of  her 
retinue,  and  said  simply: 

"This  is  a  traveling  companion.  She  will  go  with  us  as 
chaperon — as  soon  as  I  have  fixed  a  place  for  the  servants  to 
wait  for  me." 

O'Rourke  entered  immediately  into  the  arrangements  for 
the  tour,  settled  for  the  transportation  of  the  servants  to 
the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs  Hotel,  where  they  were  to  wait 
for  instructions  from  their  mistress,  and  then  in  a  little 
while  they  were  bowling  along  over  the  road  that  led  through 
the  canyon  to  the  Park. 

Prima  was  delighted  with  the  exhilaration  of  the  drive 
after  the  confinement  on  the  dusty  train  and  her  spirits  rose 
with  her  color.  Coming  to  Mammoth  Hot  Springs,  they 
suffered  the  delay  necessary  to  obtain  the  permit  to  enter 
with  the  machine. 

"This  is  the  first  year  that  they  have  ever  allowed  auto- 


AN  AMERICAN  SOLDIER  239 

mobiles  in  the  Park,  for  the  roads  are  narrow  and  in  a  few 
places  dangerous,  and  they  fear  that  the  horses  will,  when 
frightened  by  the  cars,  bring  mishaps  to  the  tourist's.  As 
it  is,  only  autos  which  are  privately  owned  are  allowed  en- 
trance," explained  O'Rourke. 

"Well,  why  don't  they  get  rid  of  their  horses  then?"  asked 
Prima.  "Here  is  a  place  called  the  'Wonderland  of  the 
World'  and  the  'Big  Thing'  of  a  boastedly  progressive  na- 
tion, and  yet  only  horses  are  allowed  as  the  means  of  trans- 
portation. What  are  all  those  soldiers  doing?" 

"They  are  here  to  guard  the  Park,"  answered  O'Rourke. 

"Ha!  Ha!  Do  they  think  that  anyone  would  steal  it — 
and  do  you  have  such  a  large  army  that  you  can  make  mere 
mountain  guards  out  of  your  troops?" 

"There  used  to  be  Indians  here,"  returned  O'Rourke. 

"Indians — Ha!  Ha!  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago,  and  still 
the  soldiers  are  here — to  protect  the  precious  park  from  the 
Indians.  How  wonderfully  up-to-date  you  really  are  here 
in  America." 

They  finally  got  their  permit. 

"What  is  that  money  you  have  been  paying?"  asked 
Prima. 

"O,  that  is  the  exaction  for  the  permit." 

"What!  do  you  mean  to  say  that  in  this  Park  which  you 
tell  me  is  for  all  the  people  that  you  have  to  pay  to  ride 
through?" 

O'Rourke  pretended  not  to  hear  as  he  studied  his  per- 
mit schedule. 

' '  Go  on,  Gustave, ' '  she  petulantly  commanded  of  the  chauf- 
feur in  retaliation  for  O'Rourke 's  silence. 

O'Rourke  held  up  his  hand. 

"We  can't  go  yet — we  must  wait  until  the  time  of  the 
schedule  commences.  You  see,  we  have  to  leave  at  a  certain 
time  and  get  to  the  next  stopping  at  another  certain  time, 
and  we  have  yet  a  half  an  hour  to  wait  before  we  go. 

Prima 's  classic  chin  went  up  in  disgust. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  in  this  land  of  the  free 
and  this  place  of  a  nation 's  entertainment  that  you  are  bound 
down  by  exactions  which  hold  you  to  a  time  table  ? ' ' 

"Those  are  the  rules,"  responded  O'Rourke. 

"Well,  I  think  that  your  free  U.  S.  A.  should  come  over 
to  Europe  and  take  a  few  lessons  in  human  liberty.  It  seems 
that  we  have  been  going  ahead  while  America — at  least  this 


240  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

United  States  part  of  it — has  been  standing  still  or  going 
behind.  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  contradictory  govern- 
ment?" 

That  night  after  their  dinner,  they  went  up  for  a  second 
visit  to  the  formations  of  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs  and 
Prima  was  lost  in  admiration  of  their  many  details. 

A  soldier  was  standing  by  the  edge  of  the  limpid  turquoise 
of  Jupiter's  giant  pool.  He  smiled  awkwardly,  but  engaging- 
ly as  they  came  up. 

"Have  ye  ben  up  yeonder?"  he  asked,  jerking  his  thumb 
back  toward  the  terraces  on  the  hills  behind. 

O'Rourke  answered  pleasantly,  but  in  polite  discourage- 
ment of  the  acquaintance,  when  Prima,  looking  at  the  awk- 
ward figure  in  ill  fitting  blue,  said: 

"Oh,  you  are  one  of  the  soldiers?" 

"Yes'um,"  responded  the  man  with  eager  alacrity.  "Was 
ye  wishen  to  see  the  f orimations  ? " 

"  0 !  please  do  take  us  to  them, ' '  answered  Prima  and  then 
whispered  to  O'Rourke. 

"Bravo!  At  last  I  have  a  chance  to  study  at  near  view 
one  of  your  brave  American  soldiers — do  please  let  us  go 
with  him." 

She  gave  one  backward  look  at  the  emerald  clearness  of 
the  vapory  pool  whose  green  waters  played  rainbow  with 
the  red,  yellow  and  purple  splashes  on  the  ivory  sides  of  the 
terrace  and  then  the  three  with  the  bright  moonlight  re- 
flecting from  the  white  calcine  at  their  feet,  followed  after 
the  soldier. 

"This  here  place  is  what  us  soldiers  calls  Dead  Man's 
Breath,"  and  he  pointed  down  to  a  deep  fissure  in  the 
ground,  from  which  the  odor  of  noisome  fumes  was  venting. 

The  soldier  looked  at  Prima  admiringly. 

"It's  nice  that  you're  wearing  such  nice  perfume.  That 
hole  there  don't  smell  so  bad  when  ye 're  around." 

He  rambled  along  as  they  followed  him  over  the  waste. 

"Them  pools  back  there  are  turrible  deep  and  hot.  There 
was  a  feller  fell  into  one  wunce,  and  when  they  got  him  out, 
the  fleash  jest  pealed  off  with  his  clothes.  This  here  Yellow- 
stone Park  has  some  turrible  things  in  it  and  they  don't 
have  nothin'  like  it  in  Europe." 

Prima  gasped. 

"Oh,  how  dreadful!  I'm  glad  we  don't  have  such  things 
in  Europe.  If  we  did  we  surely  would  protect  them  so  that 
the  people  couldn't  fall  in  the  boiling  water." 


AN  AMERICAN  SOLDIER  241 

"Wall,  ye  see,  Missus,  we  can't  do  that  here  in  Amurica, 
because  this  is  a  free  country  an'  a  man  can  go  an'  come 
when  he  wants." 

"Ah!"  remarked  Prima,  "evidently  you  are  an  American, 
not  only  from  the  way  you  talk,  I  should  judge,  but  also  be- 
cause you  are  a  soldier — for  I  presume  that  every  soldier  in 
the  American  army  must  be  an  American." 

The  double-barreled  suggestion  puzzled  him  for  a  moment, 
but  finally  he  unraveled  it  and  got  the  hold  to  the  end  of  the 
string. 

"Yes,  I'm  Amurican.  We  always  have  ben  Amurican  as 
fur  back  as  we  can  remember.  My  father  wuz  in  the  Civil 
War." 

"Ah,  really.     But  that  was  quite  recent,  wasn't  it?" 

"Yes,  but  we  go  way  back  further  than  that.  Grandad 
come  from  som'ers  back  in  New  York — York  State  he  uster 
call  it — and  my!  but  the  old  man  was  strong  agin  them 
Eurepeyan  countries.  Yesir,  we're  Amuricans  all  right. 
His  father  fought  in  the  War  of  the  Revolution." 

"Ah,  how  interesting.     You're  a  military  family  then?" 

"Yes'um,  an'  I  'spose  that's  the  reason  I'm  wearing  this 
uniform — now.  I  want  big  enough  to  enlist  in  the  war  with 
Spain — so  I  thought,  that  as  long  as  jobs  was  gettin'  pretty 
scarce  in  our  town,  that  them  thirteen  dollars  saved  up  every 
month  was  better  than  loafing  around  home — and,  besides — 
ef  you're  an  Amurican  soldier  you  get  a  chance  to  travel 
around  the  whole  world  an'  mebbe  git  a  pension." 

"But  do  you  never  think  of  the  possibility  of  war  and  of 
the  danger  to  your  life?" 

"0,  we  Amuricans  ain  't  fools  enough  to  ever  git  into  any 
war. ' ' 

"Well,  why  do  you  have  any  army  at  all  then?" 

"0,  just  because  every  government  has  just  got  to  have 
some  sort  of  an  army.  But  here  in  Amurica  we  don't  have 
to  depend  upon  no  army.  No'um — why  don't  you  know  that 
at  Washington  they've  got  secrets  which  would  just  murder 
the  whole  world  ef  they  turned  them  loose?  What  do  we 
want  an  army  for  when  we  can  fight  the  world  with 
'lectricity,  and  gasses,  and  submarines?" 

He  threw  out  his  arms  in  emphasis  of  his  grandiloquence 
and  the  rapt  look  on  Prima 's  face  led  him  along  further  into 
the  narrative  of  his  country's  prowess. 

"An'  don't  you  know,"    he    enthused,    "that   we've   got 


242  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

ingines  invented  in  Washington  that  will  kill  off  a  whole 
regiment  just  by  themselves — that  don't  have  to  have  no 
soldiers — they  just  shoot  by  themselves  an'  mow  everything 
down.  All  we  have  to  do  is  to  stay  about  ten  miles  away 
and  load  the  shells  on  flat  cars,  while  that  there  ingine  keeps 
on  spoutin  red  hot  steel  all  by  itself." 

"But  I  would  think,"  suggested  Prima,  her  eyes  sparkling 
with  merriment,  "that  eventually  the  enemy  would  likewise 
discover  the  use  of  these  terrible  engines,  so  that  finally  when 
the  opposing  machines  had  destroyed  each  other,  men  after 
all  would  have  to  fight  just  the  same." 

"Don't  you  believe  it,"  exclaimed  the  other  loftily. 
"Them  Eurepeyans  is  too  slow  for  us — we'd  get  'em  some- 
way or  other  if  they  ever  tried  any  monkey  doodle  business 
on  us." 

"Well,  since  you  have  such  wonderful  mechanical  protec- 
tion, why  should  you  want  even  the  small  army  you  have?'' 
asked  Prima  with  an  innocent  raising  of  her  black  eyebrows. 

"Why  I  suppose  to  help  out  the  militia  fellers." 

"Who  are  they?" 

"Oh,  a  lot  of  dudes  who  take  their  vacations  soldiering. 
My,  but  it  would  make  you  laff  to  see  what  kids  they  are. 
They  don't  even  know  how  to  wear  their  cartridge  belts." 

"But  they  can  shoot,  can't  they?" 

"Ha!  Ha!  Shoot?  Why  they  don't  even  know  how  to 
take  care  of  their  guns.  See,  I  Ve  got  a  medal  for  shootin  '- 
an'  las'  summer  they  had  me  detailed  at  the  general  camp 
to  help  try  to  show  them  fellers  how  to  shoot.  I  don't  know 
when  I  first  commenced  to  shoot — an'  I  thought  I  could  show 
them  fellers  how — but  you  can't  show  them  nothing  for  they 
don't  know  nothing  to  commence  on — an'  in  order  to  shoot 
right,  ye  got  to  know  somethin'  to  commence  on. 

Prima  shook  her  head  dubiously. 

"Ah,  you  mean  that  there  should  be  some  preliminary 
training  ? ' ' 

"Yes — ,  sech  as  all  us  kids  used  to  get  at  home — shooting 
from  the  time  we  was  babies — that's  what's  made  Amurica 
win  all  her  wars — because  some  of  us  know  how  to  shoot. 
That's  why  we  won  at  Bunker  Hill  an'  at  them  other  places 
and  that's  why  we  won  in  1812  and  in  the  Mexican  War  and 
the  Civil  War  and  the  Spanish  War — because  the  Amuricans 
can  shoot  an'  are  the  best  shots  in  the  world." 

"But  they  say  that  the  rifle  is  getting  to  be  a  rather  small 
weapon  to  win  battles  with." 


AN  AMERICAN  SOLDIER  243 

"Don't  you  believe  it— they're  making  them  better  every 
day." 

"Do  your  companions  feel  as  you  do?" 

' '  Sure.  Those  that  know  anything  at  all.  The  only  trouble 
is  that  there  are  a  bunch  of  lummies  in  the  army  that  come 
in  jest  to  get  warm  and  fed.  The  last  rookies  that  come 
couldn't  make  a  soldier  any  more  than  you  could.  Ye  see, 
the  recruiting  sargent  says  that  it's  gettin'  pretty  hard  to 
get  recruits  now — since  they  know  they  can't  run  away  when 
they  want  too;  for  they're  pretty  sure  to  get  ye,  now  if  ye 
want  to  go  back  to  yer  trade." 

O'Rourke  walked  silently  along,  his  heart  sickening,  but 
with  no  rebellion  against  Prima  for  her  questioning. 

He  himself  well  knew  the  doleful  conditions  of  our  historic 
army — conditions  that  even  its  splendid  achievements  could 
not  conceal.  Had  it  not  always  been  more  or  less  of  a  po- 
litical aggregation  rather  than  a  military  organization,  dom- 
inating politics  not  only  in  time  of  war,  but  even  in  peace 
(through  its  pensioners),  whipping  its  boastful  influence  over 
the  raw  back  of  the  patient  South?  Made  up  of  brave  men 
individually  ....  valiant,  yes,  heroic  ....  in  time  of 
war,  had  not  the  eventual  army  become  collectively  in  times 
of  peace,  a  mere  Bombastes  Furioso  finally  miniatured  down 
to  a  blustering  pigmy  which  alone  took  itself  seriously  be- 
fore the  convex  mirror  of  its  own  conceit?  Yes,  he  himself 
knew  the  conditions  of  our  American  army;  how  by  tradi- 
tion, by  environment,  by  trend  of  industrial  and  commercial 
development  an  American  soldier  in  time  of  peace  had  to 
continually  seek  an  excuse  for  his  employment;  he  was  a 
parasite,  looked  upon  by  many  as  a  needless  extra  extrava- 
gance whose  only  duties,  now  that  the  Indians  were  gone,  was 
to  give  our  "West  Point  graduates  some  sort  of  occupation  in 
their  control;  that  our  army  was  nothing  but  a  sort  of  an 
expensive  clinic  maintained  for  the  instruction  of  the  po- 
litical pathologists  of  Congress,  in  representation  of  Amer- 
ican patriotism,  which  was  not  quite  sure  as  to  whether  it 
wanted  an  army  or  not;  that  its  rare  efforts  at  police  con- 
trol in  times  of  strikes  had  not  shown  it  to  be  any  more 
efficient  than  a  posse  of  armed  civilians,  and  finally  that  its 
tremendous  expense  and  inefficient  showing  was  making  it 
a  joke  among  the  other  nations  of  the  earth. 

He  looked  curiously  at  the  soldier  walking  before  him  and 
recognized  in  him  the  type  he  knew  so  well.  He  compared 


K; 


244  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

him  with  his  good  natured  volubility,  bursting  up  out  of 
the  fretting  routine  of  the  day,  to  that  other  type,  ...  of 
Europe  and  Japan,  who  when  they  wore  the  uniform  were 
silent  automatons  of  discipline,  and  who  as  soldiers  were 
eternally  busy  with  everyone  of  those  twenty-four  hours  a 
day. 

Yes,  undoubtedly  the  man  could  shoot;  the  medal  on  his 
breast  proved  that,  .  .  .  and  there  was  no  question  but  what 
if  he  were  left  to  himself  in  a  skirmish  to  do  what  he  wanted 
in  his  American  way,  that  he  would  give  a  very  good  ac- 
count of  himself.  O'Rourke  thought  and  then  smiled  at  the 
memory  of  a  remark  made  to  him  by  a  distinguished  gen- 
eral of  the  Civil  War,  who  had  had  a  large  control  over  our 
army  down  to  that  very  day. 

"Our  American  soldier  is  the  best  in  the  whole  world — 
for  even  after  all  his  officers  are  killed  off,  he  has  the  brain 
and  the  independence  and  courage  to  keep  on  fighting." 

"Yes,  that  would  be  all  right,"  ran  on  O'Rourke,  in  his 
reflections,  "all  right  if  we  never  had  any  but  Indians  to 
fight — but  now,  Oh,  the  folly  of  this  great  American  people 
with  the  carnage  of  machine  battle  just  beyond  that  strip 
of  grey  water.  Oh,  the  folly  of  persisting  to  think  that  our 
way  is  right  when  ....  just  beyond  with  their  blood  and 
their  lives  they  are  proving  that  it  is  not." 

A  question  formed  itself  in  O'Rourke 's  mind;  but  he  for 
a  moment  hesitated  to  ask  the  soldier.  It  seemed  so  useless, 
and  then  he  knew  what  the  answer  would  be. 

"What  else  do  you  learn  in  the  army  besides  shooting?" 
at  length  asked  O'Rourke. 

"Why,  we  got  to  learn  the  manual  of  arms  and  then  we 
drill.  There  are  a  lot  of  other  things  I  can't  just  remember." 

"And  discipline.  Do  they  teach  what  discipline  means?" 
he  further  asked. 

"Do  you  mean  obeying  orders?" 

"Not  only  that,  but  being  made  to  know  that  you  are  in 
charge  of  a  link  in  a  chain,  a  long  chain,  .  .  .  that  goes  so 
far  that  you  yourself  can  not  know  what  is  necessary  to  hold 
it  unbroken,  ...  a  long  chain  in  which  every  link  is  a  hu- 
man mind,  ...  a  chain  for  the  safety  of  all.  Do  you  know 
that  an  absolute  attention  to  the  perfect  and  responding  con- 
dition of  your  particular  link  in  that  chain  may  be  some- 
time the  most  essential  thing  in  the  whole  world  to  you  as  a 
soldier?" 


AN  AMERICAN  SOLDIER  245 

"Oh,  you  mean  that  we  must  all  hold  together.  Sure 

they  don't  have  to  teach  us  that — everyone  with  any  com- 
mon sense  would  know  that  he  has  to  obey  orders." 

"But  orders  from  whom?" 

"From  the  non  corns — " 

"And  the  officers?" 

"Oh,  we  don't  see  much  of  the  officers — except  a  shavetail 
now  and  then,  who  airs  himself  a  good  deal  for  the  first  few 
months  when  he  comes  from  West  Point.  You  see,  they  are 
officers  who  stay  in  their  offices — an'  it's  the  non  corns  that 
does  the  ordering.  That's  the  reason  they  call  them  of- 
ficers because-— they  don't  have  nothin'  to  do  but  stay  in 
their  offices." 

O'Rourke  smiled  sadly. 

There  in  a  nutshell  was  expressed  a  certain  percentage 
opinion  of  the  American  people  on  the  American  officer;  an 
"officer  in  an  office,"  just  like  any  other  salary  grabber,  liv- 
ing on  the  bounty  of  the  people,  giving  nothing,  receiving 
everything,  idle,  almost  profligate,  sojourning  in  splendid 
garrisons,  padding  out  his  already  sufficient  pay  with  fogies 
and  extras,  commissary  and  quartermaster  concessions  in  the 
shape  of  store  privileges — a  parasite  digging  into  the  fat  of 
the  American  treasury.  Yes,  that  was  the  unjust  estimate 
of  many. 

And  then  his  mind  pictured  before  him  the  real  army 
officer ;  a  man  whose  patriotism  and  love  of  military  life  had 
led  him  to  make  a  professional  choice  which  he  knew  would 
be  hard  through  life,  .  .  .  with  its  continually  broken  ties, 
its  restrictions,  its  hardships  and  its  dangers;  a  man  chosen 
and  picked  by  the  severest  physical  and  mental  tests,  which 
were  unrelentingly  repeated  throughout  the  whole  period  of 
his  company,  troop  or  battery  command ;  a  man  whose  career 
was  centered  in  the  hope  that  some  day  he  might  be  able  to 
serve  his  country,  when  in  alarm  it  would  turn  to  him,  rude- 
ly awakened  from  its  long  dream  of  immunity  from  war,  the 
man  whom  the  people  thought  to  be  a  mere  office  holder  in 
times  of  peace — but  who  in  reality  was  the  only  fixed  sentinel 
to  whom  they  could  look  for  leadership  in  time  of  national 
danger. 

The  comparison  flashed  through  0  'Rourke  's  mind  and  then 
he  said: 

"In  Europe  now,  they  are  fighting  so  that  every  man  as 
a  human  link  has  got  to  be  as  good  as  every  other  link  in 


246  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

the  chain,  or  else  he  is  thrust  aside.  Every  man  must  fol- 
low as  a  link  in  the  chain  wherever  the  chain  goes,  ...  if 
it  goes  through  a  powder  magazine  and  becomes  even  red 
hot  while  there,  he  must  still  follow  it;  for  if  his  single  link 
fails  ....  then  the  whole  chain  would  be  broken." 

The  soldier  was  interested  but  skeptical. 

"Supposing  that  some  one  should  ask  you  to  go  into  a 
powder  mill  where  you  knew  that  there  would  be  a  small, 
perhaps  a  very  small  chance  of  your  ever  coming  back  alive." 

The  answer  came  direct. 

"Such  an  order  wouldn't  be  reasonable — and  nobody  has 
to  obey  an  order  that  ain't  reasonable." 

"But  the  chain  has  to  be  held  together  to  check  the  enemy. 
Someone  must  take  care  of  each  link,  some  links  for  the  time 
being  in  safety  and  then  at  another  time  in  danger,  ...  if 
you  should  refuse  to  go,  then  your  link  would  be  broken  and 
the  whole  chain  destroyed  and  thousands  of  your  comrades 
slain.  .  .  .  Don't  you  think  that  it  would  be  reasonable  to 
expect  you  to  do  your  duty  as  well  as  the  others?" 

"Yes.  But  that's  in  Europe,  and  here  in  Amurica  they 
don't  do  such  foolishness." 

Prima  smiled  and  in  a  moment  had  dismissed  the  topic 
which  she  had  so  cleverly  introduced,  by  asking: 

"What  is  this  cute  little  thing?" 

"0!  that's  just  a  little  geyser,"  responded  the  soldier,  and 
he  himself  became  silent  with  them,  as  there  in  the  moonlight 
they  stood,  listening  to  the  boiling  of  the  miniature  geyser, 
perfect  in  every  outline  but  hardly  larger  than  a  barnacle; 
yet  spewing  and  vaporing  along  in  an  important  busy  way. 

Prima  leaned  down  close  and  listened  long  at  the  edge  of 
the  bubbling  creation. 

"Ah,  it  is  singing,  singing  so  sweetly,"  she  exclaimed  and 
a  deep  look  spread  over  her  face. 

' '  Oh !  how  much  more  wonderful  it  is  with  its  delicate  lit- 
tle song  than  that  other  big  hideous  rasping  geyser  beside  it. 
I  should  think  that  they  would  protect  this  sweet  little  singer 
by  putting  a  rail  about  it,  for  a  single  heavy  footstep  might 
crush  it  in." 

"0,  it  isn't  big  enough  to  bother  about,"  said  the  soldier, 
looking  at  it  disdainfully. 

Prima  looked  at  O'Rourke  and  they  both  laughed,  although 
O'Rourke's  laugh  was  very  faint. 

The  soldier  did  not  join  in  the  laugh — ;  he  only  again 


THE  LOST  ART  OF  WALKING  247 

looked  at  the  tiny,  singing  bubbler,  .  .  .  looked  at  it  and 
then  wondered  why  they  laughed. 

Then  O'Rourke's  expression  became  deeply  serious  and 
when  the  soldier  said  good-bye  he  drew  himself  up  and  grave- 
ly saluted. 

And  it  was  Prima  then  who  wondered. 


VI 

THE  LOST  ART  OF  WALKING 

"Why  do  we  meet  no  pedestrians?"  asked  Prima  of 
O'Rourke  the  next  morning,  as  the  car  whirred  them  along 
past  the  grotesque  Hoodoo  Rocks,  the  drab  and  green  set- 
ting of  the  Silver  Gate  and  then  on  beyond  where  the  Golden 
Gate  reflected  on  its  beetling  side  the  gilding  of  the  joyous 
sun. 

"I  have  wondered  at  that  myself,"  returned  O'Rourke. 
' '  I  must  confess  that  as  a  people,  we  do  not  cultivate  the  art 
of  walking  as  they  do  in  Europe." 

"Don't  the  American  students  make  up  tramping 
parties  ? ' ' 

"No,  here  the  distances  are  considered  rather  too  far  for 
walking. ' ' 

"But  they  are  likewise  far  in  Europe.  Europe  is  almost 
as  large  as  the  whole  of  America  and  if  you  consider  only 
the  habitable  parts,  is  very  much  larger." 

"The  fact  is  that  many  Americans  consider  their  time  to 
be  more  valuable  than  the  exercise  that  they  get  from  the 
walking. ' ' 

"How  do  Americans  exercise  then?" 

"Oh,  various  sports — base  ball  is  the  chief  of  all." 

"Yes,  but  no  one  exercises  at  a  base  ball  game  except  the 
few  players  and  everybody  pays  to  see  them  exercise,  as  if 
it  were  a  rare  treat." 

O'Rourke  smiled  at  her  ingenuousness;  the  thought  nailed 
itself  into  his  mind. 

"Even,"  she  continued,  "in  their  effete  days  the  ancient 
Romans  of  the  most  patrician  class  prided  themselves  on  their 
daily  physical  exercise,  and  even  we  Frenchwomen  believe 
a  daily  walk  to  be  as  essential  as  our  daily  bread,  and  as 


248  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

for  the  Germans — bah — les  Boches — I  wish  that  they  hadn't 
exercised  so  much." 

She  pouted: 

"Why  even  your  farmers  don't  seem  to  want  to  walk," 
and  she  pointed  at  a  fellow  scraping  and  mending  the  road 
with  a  wooden  drag,  upon  which  he  stood  bumping  along 
most  desperately,  instead  of  enduring  the  easier  advance  of 
walking. 

"On  the  whole  distance  from  New  York  on  here,  through 
all  those  farms  we  passed  in  the  many  different  states,  I 
rarely  saw  a  farmer  walking — he  was  always  seated  on  some 
sort  of  a  machine.  In  Europe,  the  farmers  walk  from  morn- 
ing till  night.  That's  the  reason,  perhaps,  why  our  grains 
and  vegetables  are  more  savory  and  our  fruits  more  tooth- 
some. They  are  personally  conducted  in  their  growth." 

She  gave  a  quick  glance  at  0  'Rourke  and  then  added : 

"And  then  in  your  cities  everybody  has  the  shoes  so  ridicu- 
lously polished — that  I  am  sure  that  none  of  you  ever  walk 
very  much — and,  besides,  everyone  seems  to  be  waiting  for 
cars.  .  .  .  Why,  you  know  so  well  how  in  Paris,  a  long  stroll 
is  one  of  the  chief  delights  of  the  Parisian,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  we  have  the  most  moderate  and  best  transportation 
imaginable  and  cabs  are  almost  as  cheap  as  your  murderous 
death  traps  of  trolleys." 

"You  can  hardly  compare  America  with  any  other  coun- 
try," mildly  remarked  0 'Rourke. 

"That's  the  trouble  with  you  Americans.  That's  why 
Europeans  smile  after  you  have  boastingly  left  their  cir- 
cle. .  .  .  You  claim  to  have  a  land  which  is  so  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  any  other  part  of  the  planet,  that  you  can  do 
absolutely  as  you  wish  and  still  be  perfect  from  your  own 
self -satisfied  standpoint. ' ' 

She  paused  and  then  reverted.  "Do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
that  there  are  no  pedestrians  in  this  Park?" 

"I  have  been  through  a  couple  of  times  and  never  recol- 
lect having  seen  any." 

She  looked  at  him  disdainfully. 

"And  you  call  this  a  Park  for  the  enjoyment  of  all  the 
people?  Have  the  Americans  no  longer  any  legs?  What  is 
a  poor  man  to  do  if  he  wants  to  see  the  Park?" 

"The  poor  man  hasn't  any  chance  at  all  to  see  it,"  con- 
fessed 0 'Rourke.  "For  the  cheapest  tour  arranged  by  the 
government  means  nearly  a  week's  time  and  four  times  a 


THE  LOST  ART  OF  WALKING  249 

week's  wages,  in  money,  even  starting  from  the  edge  of  the 
Park  itself.  You  see  it  is  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
around  the  chief  road  of  the  Park." 

"But  that  is  only  a  nice  little  fortnight's  walk,  and  with 
food  at  fifty  cents  a  day,  which  would  be  all  his  expenses 
if  he  camped  out,  as  I  might  parenthetically  say,  it  would  be 
very  healthy  for  him  to  do,  it  would  only  cost  two  weeks' 
maintenance  for  health  restoration  and  a  better  knowledge 
than  he  otherwise  could  gain  from  riding  in  one  of  these 
painted  wagons — and  your  poor  man  would  get  it  all  for 
seven  dollars." 

Then  she  pouted  out: 

"Americans  are  soft — very  soft — " 

O'Rourke  started;  the  words  were  the  same  that  "Ward 
had  used. 

"Yes,"  she  exclaimed,  "soft — very  soft.  They  won't 
walk,  they  won't  have  an  army  because  they  are  too  lazy  for 
an  active  military  life ;  they  live  in  overheated  flats,  take 
massage  instead  of  exercise,  pills  instead  of  fresh  air,  and 
hot  baths  instead  of  cold  water  rub  downs.  They  endure 
rheumatism  rather  than  give  up  their  meat,  and  biliousness 
rather  than  forego  their  rich  foods.  I  wonder  that  I  could 
have  ever  cared  for  any  one  who  belongs  to  such  a  goose- 
like  race.  Much  as  I  hate  the  Germans — they  seem  kings 
to  me  compared  with  these  sleek-jowled  American  men  and 
perfumed  women,  who  are  even  sillier  than  that  poor  sol- 
dier last  night  whom  you  accept  as  a  soldier  just  because 
he  can  shoot  at  a  wooden  target." 

She  turned  and  clutched  his  arm.  Then  there  came  a 
fierceness  in  her  voice  that,  during  all  the  years  he  had  known 
her,  he  had  never  before  heard  in  her  utterance. 

"Listen,  O'Rourke — this  war  is  maddening  me — for  T  love 
my  country.  I  as  a  French  woman — love  my  France — the 
land  that  has  founded  the  world's  civilization  of  to-day.  I 
love  my  native  soil — much  more  than  any  American  woman 
could  ever  love  this  soulless  land.  .  .  .  And  why?  Why 
can't  your  women  love  their  country  as  I  love  mine?  Be- 
cause— you  men  have  not  the  courage  to  inspire  your  women 
with  even  a  love  for  your  own  selfish  selves.  Then,  how  can 
they  love  their  native  land  when  the  men  themselves  let  their 
backbones  get  as  soft  as  the  body  of  a  worm?" 

She  recommenced  after  a  pause. 

"They  do  not  love  you,  I  say—,"  and  her  voice  was  high. 


250  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

' '  They  do  not  love  you — or  why  should  there  be  all  these 
divorces — a  divorce  for  every  happy  marriage.  Like  a  hur- 
tled ten  pin,  it  knocks  down  all  the  others  as  soon  as  it  is  set 
up.  What's  the  use  of  being  happily  married  when  one  can 
be  as  happily  divorced?  No,  there  can  be  no  patriotism  in 
a  land  where  the  family  is  not  secure  and  fixed  in  the  pur- 
pose of  its  affection." 

"Yes,"  she  ran  on,  "your  marriages  are  mere  contracts  of 
trade — easily  broken  by  your  Fury  of  divorce,  that  robbed 
me  of  my  happiness,  commenced  in  our  little  Parisian  apart- 
ment, where  I  pictured  the  triumph  of  our  future  as  I  vocal- 
ized and  ironed  your  shirts." 

O'Rourke  bit  his  lip. 

She  recovered  herself  and  then  continued,  but  still  with 
vehemence  in  every  word: 

"And  do  you  know  that  the  whole  world  is  hating  you — 
you  the  boastful  race — the  self-loving  people,  who  think  of 
nothing  but  the  enjoyment  of  all  the  riches  of  which  you 
may  despoil  your  land  and  outwit  each  other.  .  .  .  You  are 
like  a  fat  vulture  feasting  in  the  safety  of  his  eerie  crag, 
while  watching  the  wolves  devour  the  sheep  in  the  fold  be- 
low— and  with  bleary  eyes  in  his  satiety  waiting,  .  .  .  until 
the  enclosure  is  a  shamble  and  the  wolves  gone,  so  that  he 
may  descend  in  safety  and  glut  himself  on  what  is  left  of 
the  slaughter,  .  .  .  what  even  is  left  by  the  wolves.  Yes," 
and  she  shot  him  a  glance  of  fury,  "yes,  America,  the  land 
of  the  Big,  because  it  has  not  done  its  duty  to  the  world,  is 
responsible  for  the  carnage  of  Europe's  wild  war.  .  .  .  Had 
there  been  courage  among  you  men  here — had  you  organized 
as  you  should — as  was  your  duty  in  a  time  of  peace — or 
would  you  even  organize  now — to  you  eventually  as  a  part 
of  humanity  would  have  come  the  proud  victory  of  having 
maintained  peace  and  justice  among  the  races  of  man- 
kind. .  .  .  But — no.  Your  way  is  the  way  of  darkness — 
down  into  the  safety  cellars  ....  down  into  the  depths 
where  your  foolish  fancy  pictures  security  and  comfort  and 
ease;  not  up  and  onward  to  that  broad  meeting  ground, 
where  the  other  races  of  the  world  are  now  bravely  strug- 
gling. .  .  .  But  some  day  you  will  come  out  of  your  mole- 
blindness,  but  then  it  will  be  too  late  ....  for  you  will  come 
out  into  the  sunshine  of  courage  and  truth  perhaps  only  to 
be  crushed. 

O'Rourke  stood  aghast. 


A  GEOGRAPHICAL  ILLUSION  251 

Her  voice  became  softer. 

"I  know  that  it  seems  wrong  for  me  thus  to  express  my- 
self,— especially  to  you  whom  I  would  not  for  the  world 
offend.  .  .  .  But,  O'Rourke — after  that  first  visit  of  mine  to 
this  country — the  injustice  that  America  was  doing  toward 
the  whole  world — by  not  being  brave  enough  to  stand  among 
the  nations  of  the  earth  and  assert  the  justice  of  God  and 
man  among  them — taking  sides  as  is  its  right,  and  fighting 
for  truth,  as  is  its  duty — has  so  weighed  upon  me,  that  I 
dared  not  even  think  of  this  dreadful  land,  while  I  sang,  for 
fear  I  should  fail  and  falter  in  the  very  discouragement  of 
the  thought ;  for  to  me  America  spells  nothing  but  the  word 
weakness,  .  .  .  the  letters  are  written  large  in  your  frailties 
and  can  only  be  effaced  by  iron  and  blood." 

Her  sincerity  and  the  new  tone  of  her  voice,  softened  him 
and  he  looked  at  her.  There  was  indulgence  in  his  gaze  as 
from  a  father  to  a  brawling  child. 

With  the  wonderful  delicacy  of  her  nature,  in  the  silence 
which  followed,  she  felt  his  forbearance. 

Two  tears  slowly  formed  themselves  and  rolled  down  her 
cheeks. 

She  did  not  seem  to  notice  them ;  did  not  brush  them  away 
until  slowly  they  lost  themselves  in  the  folds  of  her  coat  and 
splashed  down  over  her  hands. 

Her  beautiful  face  was  now  as  impenetrable  as  the  expres- 
sion of  the  Sphinx. 

Then  again  she  spoke,  her  voice  subdued: 

"And  it  is  right  that  you  should  ever  remember  that  it 
was  the  mischief  of  your  American  institutions — which 
ruined  my  life,  .  .  .  tore  me — through  the  folly  of  the  flesh- 
pot  and  the  worship  of  gold — away  forever  from  the  man— 
whom  I  loved  as  no  woman  ever  loved  before." 

She  did  not  look  at  him  but  almost  hissed : 

' '  But  whom  I  now  hate — hate — as  one  of  a  despised  race. 


VII 
A   GEOGRAPHICAL   ILLUSION 

Had  it  been  anywhere  else  than  in  our  glorious  Park  of 
the  Yellowstone,  O'Rourke,  even  with  all  his  self  mastery, 
would  have  had  great  difficulty  in  restraining  himselJ 


252  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

some  of  the  pointed  philippic  of  this  genius,  this  marvel- 
minded  woman  of  the  world  of  art,  whose  talent  developed 
by  the  craft  of  patience,  had  made  her  name  a  part  of  every 
fireside  conversation;  who,  now  that  she  possessed  great 
riches,  in  addition  to  the  priceless  possession  of  her  developed 
talent,  had  thus  embittered  herself  against  the  land  of  his 
birth ;  she,  the  gifted  woman  who  had  been  his  wife ;  she, 
the  world-known  artist,  in  whose  making  he  had  played  as 
great  a  part  as  she  herself — ;  no,  never  could  he  have  found 
forgiveness  for  her  defamation  of  his  native  land,  save  in 
that  precinct  of  nature's  fair  worship;  in  that  wonderland 
of  God,  where  every  step  forward,  every  roll  of  the  wheels 
brought  forth  a  new  inspiration  to  fly  beyond  the  mere 
grovel  and  grind  of  human  aggression. 

And  so  they  two  traveled  on — she  with  the  fires  of  her 
fierce  Latin  emotion  burning  like  the  depths  of  the  hidden 
lava,  easting  out  in  vaporing  the  slightest  touch  of  that 
which  sought  to  quench  it;  he,  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  for- 
bearance, which  like  the  canyon  of  the  rushing  river,  deep 
riven  and  still  deepening,  remained  in  silence  as  the  forces 
of  nature  worked  upon  it. 

His  mind  was  becoming  clearer  now,  as  the  machinery  of 
her  own  argument  and  invective  was  turned  upon  his  race — 
the  race  that  he  loved — the  race  of  his  father.  .  .  .  He  was 
seeing  things  American,  in  a  vivider  light  than  he  had  ever 
before  seen  them;  as  it  were,  in  the  cold,  clear  light  of  an 
Arctic  morning  which  cut  away  the  mirage-painted  coloring 
of  the  warm  traditions  of  his  native  land. 

Was  there  any  truth  in  what  she  said?  Was  it  possible 
that  America  had  been  selfish  in  every  single  survey  that 
it  made  within  or  over  and  beyond  its  boundaries?  Could 
there  be  any  justification  in  her  claim  that  America  had 
actually  neglected  its  opportunities  to  help  advance  the 
world?  Yes — in  one  regard  he  felt  that  she  was  right.  .  .  . 
America  had  lived  too  much  to  herself.  .  .  .  Polished  shoes, 
manicured  nails  and  other  decrees  of  fancy  fashions  were  all 
right  in  their  way,  .  .  .  but  did  we  have  the  stun3  in  us  to 
march  out  with  the  rough  boots  and  the  heavy  accoutrements 
of  war  and  claw  up  our  trenches  of  safety  when  the  time 
should  come? 

Was  she  right  in  claiming  that  we  would  have  to  pay  dear- 
ly for  our  long  and  almost  unappreciated  period  of  peace ; 
that  those  bloody  nations  now  in  the  death  struggle  would 


A  GEOGRAPHICAL  ILLUSION  253 

look  to  us  for  an  accounting  as  the  trustees  of  all  humanity 
in  the  possession  of  the  most  valuable  part  of  the  whole 
planet  ? 

She  was  a  woman  deep  in  thought  and  brilliant  in  its  ex- 
pression. .  .  .  She  interpreted  what  she  saw  as  she  inter- 
preted her  songs — from  the  glowing  inspiration  of  her  genius, 
mellowed  by  the  force  of  her  purposeful  reason. 

Yes.  It  was  well  that  fate  had  again  thrown  them  to- 
gether. He  was  at  all  events  free  from  any  renewal  of  a 
sentimental  entanglement.  .  .  .  When  he  heard  from  Athena 
—and  when  would  that  be? — he  would  tell  her  all  about  it; 
tell  her  of  what  use  she  had  been  to  him,  in  getting  his  bear- 
ings before  launching  "Old  Glory." 

It  was  with  such  thoughts  as  these  the  guide  brought  the 
chauffeur  up  to  Apollinaris  Springs. 

The  name  put  an  ironical  curl  on  Prima's  lips  as  she  dis- 
dainfully remarked: 

"Have  you  Americans  no  originality  whatsoever?  Must 
you  call  everything  you  discover  after  something  that  exists 
in  other  lands?  Why  should  any  American  town  be  named 
' '  Paris, "  "  Rome, "  "  Athens  "  or  "  Cairo  "  ?  The  only  really 
appropriate  names  you  have  are  those  that  are  of  Indian 
origin — and  even  those  are  so  distorted  out  of  their  original 
phonetics  as  to  make  them  merely  a  puzzle  to  the  speller." 

"But  then  perhaps  may  it  not  be  quite  as  well  as  having 
so  many  St.  John's  of  this  or  St.  James'  of  that?"  O'Rourke 
blandly  suggested. 

She  laughed  and  then  continued: 

"Yes — but  see  what  a  mess  you  have  got  yourselves  into. 
Instead  of  picking  out  some  simple,  easily  spelled  name 
which  would  be  emblematic  or  descriptive  of  the  place — your 
boastful  generations  have  allowed  a  lot  of  real  estate  specu- 
lators to  plant  their  names  down  on  the  map — until  looking 
at  a  list  of  your  towns  is  like  looking  at  a  city  directory  with 
'ton'  and  'ville'  or  'burg'  added  to  each  name.  If  I  were 
a  member  of  Congress,  the  first  thing  I  should  do,  would  be 
to  have  a  town-name  revision  committee  formed,  to  rename 
half  the  towns  and  cities  of  the  United  States.  Podunk  is 
a  beautiful  sounding  name  compared  with  Brownsville  or 
Evanston  or  Danville. 

O'Rourke  laughed. 

"Now,  why  couldn't  they  call  this  pretty  spring  by  a  pleas- 
ant little  name  of  its  own,  instead  of  'Apollinaris,'  for  even 


254  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

though  its  waters  may  to  some  taste  like  the  European  Apol- 
linaris — it  immediately  loses  any  originality,  and  to  me  all 
charm  in  trying  to  be  an  imitator  instead  of  an  original? 
Mon  Dieu!" 

She  looked  again  at  the  crystal  clear  spring  and  they 
passed  on. 

"I  wonder  what  your  compatriots  would  say  about  me, 
if  they  knew  how  I  was  taking  advantage  of  your  good  na- 
ture in  abusing  your  Big  America,"  murmured  Prima,  a 
light  tone  of  contrition  in  her  voice. 

' '  Oh !  I  think  that  they  would  be  rather  tolerant,  although 
I  have  never  known  anyone  to  dare  speak  of  the  United 
States  as  do  you." 

"That's  just  it,"  said  she  warmly.  "No  one  ever  does 
because  they  do  not  like  to  offend  and  for  fear  that  they 
may  be  misunderstood.  Do  you  know  from  what  I  have 
learned  of  America,  and  I  have  perhaps  learned  much  from 
the  American  colony  in  Paris,  they  are  divided  into  just 
two  classes?" 

"Just  two  classes?" 

"Yes.  Positively  divided  into  the  two  very  distinct 
classes  of  'Boosters' — as  they  call  themselves,  and  'Calamity 
Howlers,'  as  they  call  the  other  class.  There  are  about  ten 
thousand  of  these  so-called  'Boosters'  to  one  good  martyr  of 
a  so-called  'Calamity  Howler.' 

O'Rourke  smiled. 

"I  admit  that  it  is  almost  a  misdemeanor  in  this  coun- 
try to  rant  in  criticism  against  it." 

"That's  just  it.  Even  in  cheap  music  halls  girls  in  tights, 
indulgently  denominated  on  the  programs  as  'Coryphees,' 
sing  patriotic  songs  and  enfold  their  scantily  clad  forms  in 
American  flags  to  win  applause,  but  even  at  that,"  she  re- 
flected, "they  tell  me  that  when  an  Irish  song  goes  on,  there 
is  heavy  applause  from  a  certain  small  minority.  You  peo- 
ple love  the  Irish,  because  they  out-American  the  American 
in  their  hyphenated- Americanism. " 

"Oh,  it's  pretty  much  that  way,"  remarked  O'Rourke, 
"in  all  countries,"  hardly  knowing  what  else  to  say,  and 
wondering  what  it  was  in  her  last  remark  that  had  stung 
so  deeply. 

She  thought  she  understood  and  hastened  to  add: 

"Ah,  O'Rourke,  don't  think  that  I  could  say  a  word 
against  that  little  gem-like  Ireland  and  its  courageous  peo- 


A  GEOGRAPHICAL  ILLUSION  255 

pie,  who  are  'the  first  to  go  out  to  battle  and  the  first  to 
fell.'  I  just  merely  said  what  I  did  to  prove  to  you  that 
there  is  always  some  strange  call  of  the  blood  race— not  the 
mere  speech  race — but  the  blood  race — with  its  strong  far 
reaching  cry — that  ever  makes  the  blood  course  swifter, 
as  the  current  of  memory  leads  it  back  to  the  source  of  its 
origin.  Hyphenated  Americanism  will  endure  for  genera- 
tions to  come  and  Americans,  and  they  are  all  hyphenated 
for  that  matter,  ought  to  be  wise  enough  to  let  it  run  its 
course;  for  it  is  like  a  mighty  current  which,  although  you 
can't  dam  it,  you  can  none  the  less  dike  it  out  so  that' its 
flow  will  benefit  rather  than  injure.  You  can't  make  a  blood 
nation  to  order,  any  more  than  you  can  change  the  coast 
line  of  the  whole  sea." 

She  paused. 

"And  then  you  know  after  all  that  the  only  really  safe 
national  watchword  is,  'Ubi  bene,  ibi  patria,'  for  where 
one  is  well  there  is  indeed  the  Fatherland." 

"You  wouldn't  object  to  our  insisting  that  everyone  who 
enjoys  the  privileges  of  our  wonderful  land,  should  try  to 
make  even  his  instincts  all  American,  and  failing  in  that, 
that  he  should  go  back  to  that  blood  race  of  his  origin  where 
he  properly  belongs?"  interrogated  O'Rourke. 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all;  I  suppose  that  you  could  even  pass 
a  law,  expatriating  back  to  the  land  of  their  origin,  all  those 
who  in  word  or  deed  did  not  perfectly  measure  up  to  some 
arbitrary  wordy  standard  of  patriotic  test.  It  would  be,  for 
you  all  sufficient  Americans,  about  as  easy  in  your  original 
American  way  to  denaturalize  the  Europeans  as  to  naturalize 
them." 

"We  feel  that  if  an  American  is  not  all  American  that  he 
is  not  an  American  at  all,"  said  O'Rourke,  rather  wearily. 

"And  what  is  this  test  of  being  an  American?"  she  in- 
sisted. ' '  Thus  far  it  has  been  mere  talk,  has  it  not  ?  A  mere 
boosting  allegiance  to  the  Stars  and  Stripes." 

"Oh,"  good  naturedly  returned  O'Rourke,  "I  suppose 
that  from  your  viewpoint  our  popularization  of  patri- 
otic feeling  is  hard  to  understand." 

"Not  at  all,"  she  quickly  returned.  "I  understand  it,  and 
I  believe  that  it  is  dangerous,  since  it  is  offered  as  a  mere 
substitute  for  those  more  substantial  forms  of  patriotic  test 
in  continental  Europe,  where  nearly  every  able  bodied  man 
has  to  give  up  part  of  his  life  to  being  a  soldier." 


256  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

She  turned  to  him  and  slowly  asked. 

"Don't  you  think  that  as  long  as  America  hasn't  any  test 
to  impose  in  the  life-and-death  way  upon  its  citizens,  that  it 
would  be  best  to  modify  its  unique  form  of  national  conceit 
until  the  day  when  the  test  shall  come." 

"I  presume  that  on  account  of  our  geographical  advantage 
that  we  really  are  rather  over-disposed  to  a  degree  of  na- 
tional apathy." 

"Yes  and  your  awakening  will  be  very  rude,"  declared 
Prima,  "Listen  to  this,  Mr.  Self-Satisfied  American,  along 
another  line  of  the  same  angle.  .  .  .  England  in  the  present 
war  is  undergoing  her  great  disillusionment — and  the  theory 
that  geographical  isolation  was  any  advantage  is  an  exploded 
theory.  You  Americans  think  that  just  because  you  are  a 
few  scant  thousand  miles  away  from  the  average  center  of 
the  present  world's  war  that  you  yourselves  are  protected 
by  a  patriotism  such  as  was  never  before  known;  you  con- 
gratulate yourselves  that  you  are  getting  out  of  it  when  all 
the  time,  by  your  lack  of  any  foreign  policy  whatsoever,  you 
are  getting  deeper  into  it.  ...  You  are  like  a  man  with  a 
cancer — who  will  not  have  it  treated  because  he  will  not  be- 
lieve the  cancer  is  already  gnawing  at  his  vitals — and  persists 
in  taking  some  sweet  tasting  nostrum  for  boils,  when  he 
should  lie  down  under  the  knife  for  the  eradication  of  the 
real  disease.  .  .  .  Now  that  it  has  been  proved,  that  geo- 
graphical isolation  no  longer  means  immunity  from  war,  why 
don't  you  wake  up  to  the  fact  that  you  are  a  people  tem- 
porizing a  peace  which  you  will  not  long  deserve  nor  long 
enjoy?  Why  don't  you  at  all  events  have  some  actual  for- 
eign policy?  Here  you  are  taking  millions  of  English  and 
French  money  for  murderous  missiles — making  extortionate 
profits  from  the  manufacture  of  instruments  of  death  with 
which  our  allies  may  fight  the  Central  Empires.  That  is 
all  very  well  from  our  standpoint,  and  I  as  a  French  woman 
approve  heartily  of  it — except  for  the  extortionate  profits. 
But  do  not  think  that  we,  the  allies,  look  upon  such  acts  as 
any  show  of  friendship?  No.  The  whole  world  knows  that 
you  are  all  too  selfish  and  too  self-satisfied  to  form  real 
friendships. ' ' 

"You  base  that  remark  upon  our  declaration  of  the  Mon- 
roe Doctrine." 

"Ha!  Ha! —  No —  "Why,  don't  you  know  that  your  much 
boasted  Monroe  Doctrine  is  really  an  English  Doctrine — 


A  GEOGRAPHICAL  ILLUSION  257 

formulated  by  English  Diplomats  for  the  protection  of  their 
American  colony,  and  that  taking  advantage  of  your  national 
conceit  they  let  you  bombast  it  out  to  the  world — as  though 
you  really  had  something  to  back  it  up  with.  .  .  .  The  Mon- 
roe Doctrine  would  never  have  been  worth  the  paper  it  was 
written  on  had  it  not  been  for  England's  navy,  which  was 
at  all  times  ready  to  support  the  Doctrine,  not  for  your  bene- 
fit, but  for  the  protection  of  her  own  American  colony,  which 
is  quite  one  of  the  most  valuable  shares  of  this  continent. ' ' 

She  waited  a  moment  and  then  asked: 

"Are  the  Americans  blind  to  have  no  foreign  policy?" 

"We  have  been  pretty  busy  at  home — we  are  still  in  the 
forest-clearing  state  of  our  National  existence,"  answered 
O'Rourke. 

"But  within  your  own  midst  then?  What  have  you  done 
with  one  of  the  chief  questions  which  confronts  you,  the 
racial  question,  I  mean — adjusting  your  white  race  toward 
that  of  the  Negroes.  .  .  .  You  fought  a  long  four  years'  war, 
claiming  to  have  fought  it  for  the  Negro,  and  then  when  it 
was  ended,  you  simply  forgot  him  and  let  him  go  his  way — 
just  as  far  as  his  way  didn't  hurt  you.  .  .  .  What  is  your 
policy  in  regard  to  this  race  which  politically  you  declare  to 
be  the  equal  of  your  own?  Absolutely  nothing — every  little 
community  decides  each  question  as  it  comes  up  as  it  sees 
fit,  and  mostly  decides  it  at  the  end  of  the  rope.  And  then 
you  demoralize  yourselves,  so  that  you  even  let  a  man  be 
lynched,  because  he  is  a  Jew,  in  one  part  of  a  country,  and 
on  the  same  day  in  another  part  of  this  same  big  country, 
elevate  a  Jew  to  one  of  your  highest  judicial  offices." 

She  paused,  but  her  eyes  still  flashed  the  fire  of  her  con- 
tempt. 

"And  what  a  pity.  You  think  that  you  are  living — but 
you  really  are  a  dead  people.  You  are  dead,  and  why?  Be- 
cause the  only  policy  that  you  have  is  one  of  negation  of 
truth  and  right.  ...  Do  you  know  what  the  only  really  pal- 
pable American  policy  is — ,  the  one  in  which  you  most 
boast?" 

O'Rourke  looked  up. 

' '  I  shall  repeat  it  to  you — repeat  it  for  the  shame  of  you  as 
an  American,  and  the*  shame  of  your  whole  race,  the  most 
foolish  and  unjust  avowal  of  National  tactics,  a  weak  and 
vacillating  soft  nation  has  ever  invented ;  a  confession  of  in- 
competence  before  the  bar  of  the  whole  world ;  a  declaration 


258  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

of  falsehood  to  all  the  other  races  of  the  earth;  a  plea  that 
you  will  not  abide  by  justice — by  right  or  by  any  sort  of 
reason — but  only  by  our  own  self  opinionated  will — regard- 
less of  the  rights  of  the  weak  and  in  defiance  of  the  just 
compromise  of  the  strong.  Listen,  I  will  give  it  to  you — 
this,  your  only  fixed  American  rule  of  conduct — I  will  give 
it  to  you — word  for  word — that  each  syllable  may  sink  into 
your  mind  just  as  one  day  the  words  will  deepen  the  spots 
of  shame  upon  the  cheeks  of  your  Goddess  of  Liberty.  Hear 
then  the  pronunciaments  of  this  unjust  doctrine,  beside  which 
a  Mogul  proclamation  of  rapine  whines  out  like  philanthropy. 
You  know  this  policy — you  all  glorify  in  it,  but  some  day 
it  may  be  hissed  back  to  you  from  the  ashes  and  ruins  of  a 
wrecked  and  ruined  America.  Listen — hear  me  pronounce 
these  grandiloquent  words  of  your  only  American  policy." 
She  gathered  herself  up  and  spoke  the  words  as  though  ut- 
tering a  curse : 

"Our  Country!  in  her  intercourse  with  other  nations  may 
she  always  be  in  the  right ;  but  our  country,  right  or  wrong. ' ' 

She  leaned  back  and  then  vehemently  exclaimed : 

"Ah,  how  different  from  the  teaching  of  the  whole  Chris- 
tian civilization.  Right  or  wrong — my  country!  And  who 
makes  your  country?  Men — women — and  yet  you — when 
you  have  made  your  country  wrong — you  would  imperil  the 
lives  of  your  defenseless  babes — you  would  endanger  the  peace 
and  happiness  of  the  whole  world  to  stand  by  that  wrong. 
Oh,  O'Rourke,  don't  you  see  the  injustice?" 

For  a  long  time  O'Rourke  did  not  answer  and  then 
finally  said: 

"How  would  you  turn  the  phrase." 

She  rose  up  and  stretched  out  her  hands. 

"Our  country!  in  her  intercourse  with  foreign  nations 
must  ever  be  right;  right,  ever  right,  our  Country." 


VIII 
A  FREAK  NATION 

The  Black  Growler  was  roaring  away  with  its  usual  un- 
restraint. Someone  had  rolled  a  tree  trunk  down  over  its 
mouth  apparently  in  an  effort  to  gag  it ;  but  the  Black 


A  FREAK  NATION  259 

Growler  down  deep  in  its  lair  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth 
not  at  all  noticing  such  a  mere  poking  caress  as  a  ten  inch 
timber  stuck   down   its   long  throat,   kept  on  in  an  undis- 
turbed, yet  noisy  outburst,  the  whole  time  that  they  visited 
the  Lower  Basin. 

They  were  the  first  geysers  that  Prima  had  ever  seen 
and  as  they  made  their  way  over  the  plank  walk,  between 
the  Whirligig,  the  Constant,  the  Minute  Man  and  'the  other 
splashing  pool  geysers,  O'Rourke,  to  whom  geysers  were  an 
old  story,  both  in  Iceland  and  New  Zealand,  watched  her 
curiously. 

Her  comment  was  long  in  coming,  but  finally  she  asked: 
'Do  you  see  anything  beautiful  about  this  geyser  bed?" 

^Well — the  emerald  pool  has  a  wonderful  depth  of  color." 
'And  so  does  the  sky— only  a  thousand  times  more  so. 
By  the  way,  I  was  sorry  that  you  missed  that  glorious  re- 
flection in  Swan  Lake  yesterday.  It  held  my  attention  all 
the  way — but  you  never  even  looked  at  it — how  fascinating 
it  was.  Quadrant  Mountain  and  Bannock  and  Antler  Peak, 
miles  away,  but  by  some  mirage  like  effect  of  the  high  alti- 
tude, all  reflecting  in  the  single  focus  of  that  little  lake  their 
wonderful  colors,  ...  all  borrowed  from  the  sky,  the  won- 
drous every  day  sky  of  the  whole  world,  which  even  gives 
these  pools  what  little  of  loveliness  they  have." 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  missed  the  Swan  Lake  reflection," 
politely  returned  O'Rourke. 

"I  am  glad  that  you  flatter  the  commonplace  that  much," 
she  came  back. 

"The  commonplace — what  do  you  mean?" 

"Oh,  I  mean  it  from  your  American  standpoint.  It's 
aloi^g  the  same  line  of  what  I  have  before  been  telling  you 
and  I  continue  because  I  think  that  it  will  do  you  good. 
You  have  broken  away — or  even  I  might  say — you  have 
never  acknowledged  the  artistic  standards  of  Europe.  You 
have  never  produced  a  first  class  tenor  and  barely  one  star 
of  any  sort  in  spite  of  the  nearly  one  hundred  millions  that 
you  number.  There  is  not  an  American  artist  whose  pictures 
or  sculptures  are  really  treasured;  few  of  your  authors  are 
ever  worth  while  translating  even  in  Germany  where  printing 
is  almost  as  cheap  as  typewriting;  you  have  a  whole  section 
of  Paris  all  to  yourselves  and  inhabited  quite  exclusively 
by  your  compatriots  with  the  educational  advantages  of 
that  great  capital  before  you,  and  yet  have  accomplished 


17 


260  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

during  all  these  years  almost  nothing  which  will  measure 
up  to  European  classic  standards  of  merit.  ...  I  must  not 
forget  to  give  your  nation  credit  for  what  it  has  discovered 
in  the  field  of  practical  science — you  are  as  good  now  as 
the  Chinese  used  to  be  along  that  line — and  have  mechanized 
your  lives  so  that  today  in  your  electric  lighted,  automatic 
heated  apartments,  you  feel  sorry,  when  with  white,  waxy 
faces  you  look  out  into  the  wintry  blast,  for  your  forbears 
who  were  in  the  winter  time  obliged  to  go  out  in  the  open 
to  get  fuel  for  their  fires." 

O'Rourke  held  out  his  hand  in  protest  but  she  canted  on. 

"And  this  progress  has  been  your  undoing,  for  you  sub- 
stitute the  casual  discoveries  of  mechanics  and  electricity 
as  a  real  advance  along  humanics.  .  .  .But  even  with  all 
your  telephones  and  your  music  machines,  I  do  not  think 
that  you  live  any  better,  or  do  as  much  for  the  world  you 
live  in,  as  did  those  nondescript  but  hardy  adventurers — 
your  forbears — who  came  over  to  seek  their  precarious  for- 
tune in  America,  because  they  were  not  well  enough  at 
home." 

She  dug  her  heel  disdainfully  down  into  the  wet  calcine 
by  the  walk. 

"When  we  were  man  and  wife,  O'Rourke,  I  never  had 
the  heart  to  tell  you  how  your  American  ways  and  conceit 
bore  upon  me — for  the  debt  of  gratitude  was  too  large  to 
you  to  allow  me  any  of  even  the  smallest  expression  which 
might  offend  you.  I  shall  always  consider  you  the  noblest 
of  all  men — contradictory  as  this  statement  may  seem  to 
you." 

Her  voice  had  lost  its  sarcasm  and  her  disdain  changed 
to  earnestness. 

"All  of  the  real  joy  I  have  had  in  life,  none  the  less, 
has  come  from  the  inspiration  of  your  own  self-assertive  self. 
I  never  then  understood  you,  although  I  loved  you.  As  it 
seems  to  me  now  I  have  only  understood  you  these  last  few 
days  while  traveling  in  this,  your  native  land." 

She  paused  as  though  she  feared  that  her  personal  refer- 
ence would  go  too  far. 

"I  merely  thought  you  erratic,  brilliantly  so,  in  an  indi- 
vidual way — but  now  I  find  that  you  were  merely  American, 
living  and  acting,  just  as  the  millions  of  other  Americans, 
who  all  look  alike,  talk  alike,  dress  alike,  have  the  same 
smoothshaven  faces,  are  barbered,  manicured  and  laundered 


A  FREAK  NATION  261 

as  though  they  could  not  in  their  conceit  be  brought  too 
closely  together  or  resemble  each  other  too  much  drawing 
themselves  up  proudly  in  contrast  over  those  less  favored 
creatures  of  God's  making,  who  are  not  Americans." 

She  smiled  disdainfully. 

"And  now  I  am  finding  out  what  is  the  matter  with 
America  and  what  is  the  matter  with  Americans.  It  is  a 
freak  nation — not  normal  according  to  any  of  the  more 
settled  standards  of  all  history — but  dangerously— that  is, 
for  the  rest  of  the  world — dangerously  abnormal." 

O'Rourke  stood  aghast  as  she  continued: 

"Now  you  know  what  any  civilized  society  does  with  an 
abnormal  member — they  generally  lock  him  up  even  though 

he  hasn't  committed  any  crime  and  probably  never  will 

but  as  a  freak,  society  fears  his  insanity,  even  though  it 
may  not  be  very  pronounced,  and  even  though  alienists  them- 
selves disagree  in  passing  on  his  case,  for  when  it  is  a 
question  of  insanity,  society  generally  decides  on  its  own 
normal  side." 

She  looked  him  squarely  in  the  face: 

' '  What  would  you  think  if  after  this  war  was  over  in  the 
regrouping  of  the  European  powers  and  Japan  that  a  certain 
group  should  constitute  themselves  into  a  jury,  to  pass  upon 
the  question  of  America  being  sufficiently  normal  to  take 
care  of  herself  without  being  a  menace  to  the  rest  of  the 
world?  Supposing  that  America  should  herself  soon  dis- 
cover that  she  was  suffering  from  a  paresis  due  from  over- 
living and  too  little  exercise,  and  was  powerless  to  object." 

O'Rourke's  face  flushed  with  anger — but  in  a  moment  he 
controlled  himself  while  she  countered: 

"Then  you  are  freakish  because  you  are  only  a  speech- 
family  and  not  really  a  race — and  you  will,  and  can  never 
be  anything  except  a  mere  speech-nation,  because  of  your 
negroes.  So  it  is  a  mere  language  that  holds  you  together — 
with  a  loosely  organized  government,  which  has  already 
suffered  one  prolonged  civil  war.  Even  to  this  day  your 
different  sections  have  violent  differences  on  finance  and 
tariff  not  to  mention  internal  improvements  and  the  whole 
list  of  other  political  questions  and  sectional  differences. 
yes — O'Rourke — America  is  a  freak  nation." 

O'Rourke's  face  was  white  as  he  spoke. 

"We  ease  the  burden  of  the  whole  world  by  our  inventions 
which  promote  health  and  save  life;  we  explore  the  depths 


262  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

of  Africa  and  discover  the  North  Pole;  we  wage  a  war  to 
free  an  enslaved  people ;  we  cleave  the  continent  in  twain ; 
but  all  these  things  we  do  merely  because  we  are  abnormal, 
we  are  freakish!  If  that  is  racial  insanity — I  wish  that  the 
whole  world  were  crazy." 

Prima's  voice  was  conciliatory. 

"I  was  hardly  reasonable,  I  admit.  I  only  spoke  to 
drive  the  fact  home,  that  you  are  not  at  all  like  the  other 
peoples  of  the  earth — that  you  are  eccentric,  and  that  each 
year  your  boasted  melting  pot,  instead  of  normalizing  your 
nation,  makes  it  still  more  eccentric.  Just  reflect  upon  the 
sayings  and  doings  of  your  leaders,  compare  them  with  those 
of  Europe — tell  me  if  they  really  are  not  eccentric  in  re- 
sponse to  the  demands  of  their  eccentric  constituencies?" 

The  Black  Growler  which  had  for  a  time  been  silent  com- 
menced to  roar  out  again.  To  escape  the  shower  from  the 
outburst  they  went  around  toward  the  road. 

They  stopped  upon  the  edge  of  the  hill  where  a  break  in 
the  woods  gave  them  a  full  view  of  the  basin  and  the  valley 
with  the  steaming  river  vaporing  through  it. 

"So  this  is  what  Americans  spend  good  money  to  come 
and  see — "  she  reflected,  pointing  toward  the  sput- 
tering geysers  as  the  fumes  from  the  depths  below  rose  up. 
"Why  it  must  be  almost  as  good  to  them  as  a  lynching — 
to  smell  all  these  poisons,  see  all  this  churning  mud  and 
watch  the  hot  water  spouting.  Freaks !  Freaks !  Ha ! 
Ha !  How  you  love  them !  What  a  joy  they  bring  you. ' ' 

She  turned  to  him  abruptly. 

"Please  show  me  no  more  of  the  freakishiiess.  If  there  is 
anything  beautiful  to  see  in  this  Yellowstone  Park,  take  me 
to  it — but  of  its  freaks  I  have  had  enough. ' ' 


IX 
MORE  TEST  OF  FORBEARANCE 

Prima's  delicate  craving  for  beauty  found  its  full  satis- 
faction on  the  return  road  all  the  way  from  the  Virginia 
Cascades,  back  to  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs.  The  canyon 
and  the  great  falls  delighted  her. 

"But  of  course,"  she  commented,  "they  have  to  exagger- 


MOFE  TEST  OF  FORBEARANCE  263 

ate  the  beauty  of  the  colors;  just  listen  to  this  description," 
and  she  read  from  a  railroad  guide: 

"Walls  of  jasper,  streets  of  gold,  gates  of  pearl,  founda- 
tion stones  of  emerald  and  sapphire  and  topaz  and  of  ame- 
thyst, yes,  they  are  all  there.  You  see  such  a  display  of 
color  as  the  eye  of  man  never  looked  upon." 

She  laughed. 

"How  very  American  that  all  sounds!  You  see,  the 
American  rarely  bothers  about  stating  mere  facts,  or  making 
accurately  concise  descriptions;  he  deals  entirely  in  con- 
clusions. So  there  you  have  it — the  railroad  booster,  as  a 
real  American,  merely  connects  up  the  hues  of  the  rainbow 
with  gold  and  pearl  and  precious  stones  and  there  is  your 
conclusion  beyond  doubt  whatsoever;  the  most  beautiful 
thing  in  the  whole  world,  and  if  you  should  mildly  contra- 
dict, you  would  be  thoroughly  un-American;  for  of  course 
everything  in  America  must  be  either  the  biggest  or  the 
most  beautiful,  and  if  a  thing  is  both  big  and  beautiful, 
so  much  the  better.  I  believe,"  she  added  dryly,  "that  one 
of  your  most  popular  passing  songs  is  now  a  screech  about 
a  great  big  beautiful  doll." 

O'Rourke,  apparently  unmindful  of  what  she  was  saying, 
stood  out  on  a  little  jutting  crag  between  the  Falls  and 
Inspiration  Point,  where  the  wild  depth  of  the  canyon 
lunged  down,  red  and  golden  with  sunshine,  and  the  green 
ribbon  of  the  river  winked  back  at  the  blue  of  the  sky. 

' '  If  these  walls  were  of  granite  and  not  of  this  crumbling 
adobe  stone — would  it  not  add  much  to  the  sentimental 
appraisal  of  it  all?"  she  asked. 

But  he  did  not  answer,  again  he  felt  himself  rebelling 
against  her  continued  bitter  reflections  and  unjust  com- 
ments. .  .  .  Had  a  man  talked  as  did  she  against  all  things 
American,  he  would  have  made  an  abrupt  ending  to  his  own 
role  of  listener.  .  .  .  But  she  a  woman — and  a  woman  who 
had  been  his  wife — a  genius  of  her  womankind!  He  would 
be  silent.  .  .  .  When  all  that  she  had  been  saying  the  last 
few  days  had  at  length  crystallized  itself  in  his  brain, 
then  alone  would  he  know  whether  her  vehement  criticism 
was  doing  his  Americanism  good  or  ill. 

She  seemed  to  divine  the  reason  for  his  un  responsiveness. 

"O'Rourke — "  and  there  was  always  a  little  musical  trill 
she  put  on  the  "r's"  of  his  name  that  pleased  him. 

"O'Rourke,  do  you  know  that  I  am  putting  a  severe  test 


264  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

upon  you — the  greatest  test  that  human  experience  ever  has 
to  undergo — the  test  of  long  forbearance.  ...  I  talk  to  you 
as  I  would  talk  to  no  other  one  living.  I  don't  mean  in  re- 
gard to  what  I  have  just  been  saying  about  this  sacred  play- 
ground of  yours — but  those  other  sharp  words  which  have 
been  a  part  of  every  phrase  I  have  uttered.  .  .  .  But  of  all 
those  in  the  whole  world  today — you  are  the  only  one  to 
whom  I  can  speak  without  restraint.  Take  what  I  say, 
therefore,  as  a  mere  expression  of  confidence — spoken  per- 
haps idly — but  with  a  possible  purpose  which  may  some  time 
serve  you.  ...  If  all  that  I  say  is  chaff,  then  it  is  blown 
away  as  it  is  uttered — but  if  there  is  any  of  the  solid  grain, 
let  it  remain  to  be  measured  up  in  the  store  rooms  of  your 
mind,  .  .  .  for  your  good  and  through  you  the  good  of  your 
compatriots. ' ' 

They  meandered  around  the  great  beautiful  rambling 
width  and  length  of  the  hotel.  No  further  word  came  from 
her,  .  .  .  until  looking  out  from  the  great  lounge  and  ball- 
rooms, she  saw  the  ragged  edge  of  the  wood  with  a  herd  of 
cattle  browsing  in  the  shade  of  the  trees. 

"Ah,  this  I  love,"  she  said.  "How  beautiful  the  primi- 
tive setting  becomes  this  extravagant  hotel.  .  .  .  Instead  of 
fussing  up  the  front  view  with  parks  and  gardens,  they  have 
left  it  as  it  should  be.  They  have  held  it  as  they  have  taken 
it  from  the  hand  of  God." 

They  motored  up  Mt.  Washburn.  The  day  was  clear  and 
from  the  great  height  the  whole  beauty  of  the  Park  was 
spread  out  before  them:  the  upper  geyser  basin  with  the 
play  of  its  giant  geysers,  the  yellowed  outline  of  Hayden 
valley  and  the  wondrous  blue  of  the  lake  beyond;  then  the 
shaggy  fringe  of  the  forest  broken  by  the  canyon  as  it  led 
the  river  on  out  toward  the  far  distant  plains  below,  .  .  . 
all  schemed  out  in  the  light  and  shadow  of  the  wide  per- 
spective. 

She  asked  to  linger  long  at  Tower  Falls  and  even  when 
they  had  stayed  up  to  the  last  moment  of  their  schedule, 
looked  lingeringly  backward  over  the  jumbled  but  majestic 
confusion  of  the  canyon's  sides,  with  the  sentinel  edges  of 
the  needles  below,  and  the  sheerness  of  the  overhanging 
cliffs  above. 

Delight  danced  in  her  eyes. 

"These  distances  are  very  long — from  one  point  of  in- 
terest to  another — but  there  is  vastness  in  it  all  that  pleases 


WHITE  SLAVES  265 

me.  But  do  you  know,"  she  added,  looking  at  him  amiably, 
"that  in  this  Park  you  Americans  have  neglected  a  great 
opportunity  ? ' ' 

O'Rouike  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"For  you  do  not  tell  us  enough  of  what  lays  beyond  these 
roads.  If  I  were  to  make  a  choice  of  seeing  what  is  on  the 
road  and  what  is  off  of  it — I  would,  if  time  allowed,  surely 
keep  away  from  the  roads,  for  in  a  place  like  this,  there 
must  be  just  as  much  of  the  wonderful  in  between,  as  there 
is  on  the  roads  themselves." 

"I  am  glad  that  you  give  us  credit  for  moderation  in  at 
least  one  regard — "  acquiesced  O'Rourke.  "Do  you  know 
the  first  time  I  ever  visited  the  Park,  I  fell  in  with  an  old 
chap  as  guide,  who  had  been  one  of  its  first  discoverers  and 
who  knew  every  section  of  the  whole  reservation.  He  had 
been  a  ranger  with  a  couple  of  pals,  and  only  once  every 
year  they  would  go  down  to  Bozeman  with  their  year's 
earnings.  Then  after  they  had  bought  their  grub  stake  they 
would  spend  all  the  rest  of  their  money  as  quickly  as  they 
could  in  any  way  whatsoever.  When  every  cent  was  gone, 
with  a  happy  heart  as  if  freed  of  a  great  burden — they 
would  go  back  for  another  long  year's  labor.  .  .  .  Well- 
pardon  this  apparent  digression  which  I  make  merely  to  in- 
troduce you  to  my  informant — this  fellow  told  me  almost 
what  you  yourself  have  divined,  that  the  Park  was  more 
wonderful  away  from  the  roads  than  on  it." 

"Yes — and  wonderful  I  am  sure  in  not  quite  so  freaky 
a  way." 

O'Rourke  smiled  and  she  was  sorry  in  a  moment  when 
she  had  said: 

"Rest  assured  that  the  big  and  freaky  things  have  already 
been  first,  as  a  matter  of  American  impulse,  all  discovered." 


X 

WHITE  SLAVES  

The  usual  reluctant  farewell  to  the  Yellowstone  and  again 
they  were  on  their  way. 

She  had  asked  that  he  show  her  Butte,  and  when  they  had 
come  to  the  beetling  butte,  whose  slopes  were  a  jumble  of 


266  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

wooden  shacks,  smoking  chimneys  and  treeless  arid  mountain 
stretches  beyond,  he  saw  that  she  shuddered. 

"Yes,  I  know  that  it  does  look  ugly,"  remarked  O'Rourke 
apologetically.  "Perhaps  the  ugliest  city  in  the  whole 
world." 

"Ugly?  Ugly?"  and  then  she  commented,  "to  me  this 
ugliness  is  the  symbol  of  strength.  The  knotted  muscles — 
the  bent  back — the  exhausting  drip  of  the  sweat — all  these, 
when  compared  with  the  statuesque  repose  of  ease  and  the 
buckling  curls  of  an  Adonis  posing  or  a  Venus  in  a  per- 
fumed bath,  may  not  seem  lovely — but  they  make  up  to  me 
a  picture  of  real  beauty — beauty  that  shows  always  brightest 
in  the  harness  of  human  toil — for  strength  is  beauty  and 
beauty  is  strength.  Oh !  I  think  that  it  is  all  wonderful. ' ' 

"You  notice,"  remarked  O'Rourke,  "that  there  are  no 
trees  or  flowers  or  even  grass  or  weeds;  every  living  thing 
save  man  and  his  working  beasts  enveloped  in  the  smelters, 
has  been  scourged  away  by  the  lash  of  their  poisons." 

"Splendid,"  she  exclaimed.  "Is  not  the  thought  in- 
spiring. Here  man  alone  survives  the  poisons  that  he  him- 
self produces ;  just  he  and  the  animals  which  he  protects. ' ' 

They  drove  around  through  the  streets,  their  driver 
pointing  out  here  and  there  the  objects  of  interest  as  they 
passed  along. 

"Two  things  impress  me  here,"  she  said,  "here  in  this, 
the  most  interesting  city  I  have  ever  visited,  .  .  .  that  al- 
though millions  are  being  taken  out  of  those  barren  slopes — 
there  is  no  display  of  wealth;  even  the  homes  of  the 
opulent  are  most  modest  in  their  dimensions,  style  and  cost ; 
and  then  I  am  impressed  with  the  number  of  churches.  .  .  . 
Do  you  know  that  we  in  Europe  with  our  Catholic  ideas, 
which,  in  spite  of  state  freedom  of  worship,  prevail  in 
France — we  perhaps  believe  too  much  that  America  is  a 
Godless  nation — and  that  is  has  gone  backward  rather  than 
forward  to  find  its  precepts  of  religious  comfort — either  in 
the  old  philosophers  of  the  Pagan  ages — or  shall  I  say  it? 
Back  to  Mammon.  .  .  .  You  know  that  in  America,  La 
Chasse  au  dollar — the  rush  for  the  dollar — is  considered  to 
be  your  chief  occupation." 

"Of  course,"  returned  O'Rourke,  "since  religious  toler- 
ance is  at  the  very  basis  of  our  institutions,  in  the  scattering 
of  our  various  church  divisions,  we  may  not  make  as  much  of 
a  religious  showing  as  European  countries,  which  are  still 


WHITE  SLAVES  267 

more  united  in  their  sectarian  worship  than  we — ;  but  none 
the  less,  I  believe  that  in  actual  God-fearing  devotion  we 
compare  favorably  with  any  other  nation." 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "that  we  in 
Europe  have  been  inclined  to  believe  that  your  churches 
were  in  the  nature  of  clubs,  where  you  hold  regular  meetings 
in  more  of  a  social  than  a  religious  way — that  these  clubs 
are  presided  over  by  men,  rather  more  polite  than  re- 
ligious—  .  .  .  who  acted  as  masters  of  ceremonies — enter- 
taining in  sermons  of  a  more  practical  philosophic  than  a 
religious  trend  and  whose  tenure  of  office  depends  much 
upon  their  social  acceptability  to  the  congregation;  that 
these  social-religious  leaders,  masters  of  ceremonies,  report 
the  affairs  of  their  particular  church  unit  to  a  central 
governing  power — which  reforms,  revises  or  manufactures 
sometimes  almost  entirely  anew,  tenets  to  suit  the  convenience 
and  promote  the  pleasure  of  their  following,  whom  otherwise 
they  would  lose  in  part  or  all. 

"The  social  part  of  church  life  is  an  essential  part  of  its 
religious  control,"  simply  returned  O'Rourke,  who  never 
argued  upon  any  question  of  religion. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  that  here  in  Butte,  religion  makes  such 
a  showing  and  that  the  churches  constitute  the  best  part  of 
its  buildings,"  concluded  Prima. 

They  were  driving  at  last,  down  a  street  toward  the 
station — a  weather  beaten  street,  upon  which  still  stood  some 
of  those  old  pioneer  wooden  buildings  with  false  fronts 
squaring  off  the  angles  of  their  roofs  to  enhance  the  size  of 
their  appearance. 

A  gleam  of  a  silken  robe  and  a  brightly  colored  mantle 
caught  Prima 's  quick  eye,  as  the  painted  face  of  a  woman 
followed  them  for  a  moment  curiously  and  then  disappeared 
behind  a  barricade  of  boards  which  shut  off  from  view  a 
large  bricked  courtway. 

The  abandon  of  the  woman,  the  colors  and  flimsiness  of 
her  clothes,  her  painted  face  and  darkened  eyes,  betrayed 
to  Prima  her  character  in  a  glance. 

"Let  us  visit  the  place — I  want  to  know  what  these  white 
American  slaves  of  which  I  have  been  reading  so  much  are 
like." 

O'Rourke 's  face  reddened  and  paled.  .  .  .  His  whole  de- 
meanor was  one  of  protest. 

"Why  should  you  want  to  prevent  me?"  she  interposed. 


268  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"We  visit  hospitals  and  morgues.  Why  shouldn't  we  visit 
this  place?" 

"Because  all  degrade  themselves  by  even  approaching 
these  unclean  creatures  whose  degradation  is  like  a  mud  that 
won't  wash  off." 

"Ah,  that  is  your  viewpoint.  .  .  .  You,  like  all  other 
Americans  think  that  you  can,  at  the  long  end  of  a  stick 
called  law,  keep  these  beings  away  from  your  own  precious 
selves,  or  even  legislate  them  out  of  existence.  .  .  .  Don't 
you  know  that  these  women  represent  one  of  the  oldest 
diseases  the  world  has  ever  known?  A  disease  called  Lust. 
Every  disease  has  a  cause,  which  if  removed  brings  back 
health — now  mere  pronouncements  of  law  won't  cure  this 
disease  of  lust;  even  though  they  seem  to  be  driving  the 
poison  from  one  part  of  the  body  politic  to  another;  such 
methods  may  sometimes  make  a  cancer  of  a  boil.  The  cause 
of  this  disease  is  in  the  institutions  of  society  themselves.  .  .  . 
Reform  them  and  the  disease  will  disappear." 

She  beckoned  to  a  policeman  who  stood  by  the  side  of  the 
barricade. 

"We  wish  to  visit  this  place.  I  have  an  experiment  which 
I  would  like  to  try."  She  slipped  a  yellow-backed  bill  into 
his  hand  and,  all  attention,  he  effusively  offered  his  services. 
Policemen  are  everywhere  the  same  in  these  soft  days  of 
petty  reform. 

With  a  red  face  O'Rourke  sheepishly  followed,  fearing  for 
her  safety. 

They  went  through  the  barricade  as  through  a  turn-stile, 
the  boarding  making  up  three  separate  screens  which  over- 
lapped, to  separate  as  it  were,  the  clean  from  the  unclean.  .  .  . 
It  was  late  afternoon  and  the  effulgent  sun  scattered  its 
rays  down  over  the  red  pavement,  on  the  labyrinth  of  which 
the  one-storied  separate  apartments  appeared  like  cells  in 
the  prison  of  that  strange  surrounding,  which  only  needed 
bars  at  the  windows  to  make  it  a  Yoshiwara  of  Japan. 

Scattered  along  at  their  doorways,  visiting  one  another  or 
strolling  about  the  court,  were  the  creatures.  .  .  .  who  like 
broken  blood  vessels  upon  the  face  of  humanity  make  it 
blush  with  shame  for  all  time.  .  .  .  Neither  the  vivid  paint 
on  their  faces  nor  the  elaborate  hair  dress  could 
bring  any  imitation  or  semblance  of  beauty  to  those 
faces,  whose  lust  and  degradation  had  despoiled  them  of  the 
last  trace  of  woman's  comeliness.  They  were  all  old — not 


WHITE  SLAVES  269 

in  years — but  old  in  the  shame  which  in  a  day  ages  even  the 
budding,  first  freshness  of  youth.  .  .  .  There  was  to  Prima 
and  to  O'Rourke  no  picturesqueness  in  the  long  perspective 
of  the  courtway,  although  the  glow  of  the  yellow  sun  painted 
new  colors  into  the  dull  red  of  the  brick — and  glinted  the 
bright  colored  gowns  of  the  inmates. 

Prima  gathered  close  to  O'Rourke  and  shuddered.  .  .  . 

Her  face  was  white  and  her  breath  came  short.  She  was 
suffocating  in  an  attempt  not  to  breathe  the  air  of  the  women 
about  her. 

Then  she  cautiously  advanced  as  if  to  approach  and  yet 
hold  herself  safe  from  a  nest  of  serpents. 

A  group  of  the  women  gave  up  their  lewd  gossip  and 
looked  at  her  curiously,  as  still  holding  to  O'Rourke,  she 
approached  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  them. 

Her  voice  came  to  them  low — though  so  clear  that  not  a 
word  was  lost  to  even  the  drug-dulled  ears  of  the  bawds. 

"Are  there  any  of  you  who  would  leave  this  life  which 
is  destroying  your  bodies  and  damning  your  souls?"  she 
asked. 

On  some  of  the  faces  there  was  a  leer  of  interest — on  others 
a  mere  half  blank  expression  of  coarse  amusement.  "Ha! 
Ha!"  thought  these  last,  "some  great  society  woman  who 
has  come  here  to  get  her  pictures  in  the  papers  as  an  angel 
of  mercy." 

She  advanced  a  step  nearer.  .  .  .  Now  she  spoke  as  across 
a  chasm  to  those  she  would  save.  Her  simple  entreaty  came 
like  an  assuring  comfort  from  the  Scripture. 

' '  I  will  show  you  the  way — the  way  of  happiness.  I  will 
care  for  and  protect  you — not  one,  but  all,  if  you  will  only 
come.  .  .  .  See — money  is  naught.  It  will  be  yours  for 
your  uplift,  not  your  defilement ;  for  your  welfare,  not  your 
degradation. ' ' 

She  turned  to  O'Rourke.  "Please  give  to  each  one 
of  these,  and  then  tell  them  that  if  they  will  only  put  on 
some  decent  clothes  and  meet  us  at  the  train — that  I  will 
lead  them  up  out  of  this  awful  life. ' ' 

She  weakly  swung  upon  him  as  he  took  the  money  crowded 
into  his  hand  and  passed  over  to  each  of  the  jades  one  of  the 
crisp  yellow-backed  notes. 

They  reached  out  for  them  greedily  and  there  was  a  snarl 
as  one  thrust  her  hand  out  farther  than  the  others.  . 
Fingers  which  trembled  and  wavered  like  the  smoke  ascend- 


270  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

ing  from  the  cigarettes  held  in  their  nervous  clutch,  greedily 
crumpled  the  bills  out  of  sight  and  looked  askance  lest  some- 
one might  reclaim  them. 

Prima  put  out  her  hand  gropingly  and  then  tried  to  ex- 
plain. 

"That  money  is  just  to  pay  for  your  cab  fare  and  as  an 
earnest  that  I  will  take  care  of  you — if  you — will  come — 
come  this  very  moment — follow  me  out  from  this — this — 
hell.  .  .  .  There  is  still  an  hour  before  the  train  leaves  for 
the  coast.  Come  and  I  will  lead  you  all  into  a  new  life.  .  .  . 
Come,  please  come!  Decide  now — and  leave  at  once — that  is 
the  only  way  to  break  away  from  this  life  of  evil.  Come! 
Please  come!" 

Never  was  an  appeal  of  simple  words  more  eloquently  or 
beautifully  uttered.  .  .  .  That  voice  which  in  the  melody  of 
song  had  brought  fame  and  fortune  in  a  whole  nation's 
effusive  praise  and  the  great  world's  unstinted  applause,  .  .  . 
although  it  had  thrilled  thousands  to  ecstacy  and  moved 
multitudes  to  tears,  had  never  before  carried  more  of  the 
heart  and  soul  of  Christ's  own  message,  than  in  those  few 
words  breathed  like  a  breath  of  restoring  fragrance  upon 
the  painted  faces  and  scarred  souls  standing  before  her  in 
their  pit  of  fetid  vice. 

O'Rourke  looked.  .  .  . 

She  clung  limply  to  him  and  as  he  gazed  there  seemed  to 
come  a  radiance  in  her  look  that  painted  a  halo  about  the 
calm  white  face,  even  more  beautiful  in  that  moment  of 
woman's  contrast;  .  .  .  and  suddenly  to  him  she  became  the 
image  of  the  Madonna.  Reverently  and  in  silence  he  led  her 
away. 

Quickly  they  left;  even  the  ragged  street  took  on  some- 
thing of  the  beautiful  by  comparison  with  the  court  of 
iniquity  which  in  their  memory  remained  like  a  bleared 
blotch  of  recollection  in  woman's  dishonor. 

Prima  was  long  in  recovering  herself — breathing  deeply 
as  if  she  had  been  strangled. 

When  she  was  fully  herself  she  looked  at  O'Rourke  in- 
quiringly, long  and  earnestly. 

He  divined  her  inquiry  and  answered: 

"No,  they  will  not  come." 

And  she  moved  her  head  sadly.  ...  In  her  look  he  knew 
that  she  too  was  convinced  that  not  even  one  would  come — 


THE  ASIATIC  FRONTIER  271 

that  to  redeem  those  scarlet  women  of  the  painted  faces 
under  the  present  condition  of  society  the  most  fervent 
prayers  to  God's  own  shrine  seemed  unavailing. 


XI 
THE  ASTATIC  FRONTIER 

They  had  journeyed  across  another  state  and  were  still  u 
long  night's  ride  from  the  Pacific  Coast. 

It  was  a  glorious  city  of  the  mountain  plains  to  whose 
stream  of  wealth  flowing  from  the  wheat  lands  of  the  Palouse 
and  Big  Bend  was  added  the  deep  gathered  treasures  of 
Coeur  d'Alene. 

They  were  in  the  Chinese  room  of  the  great  Hotel.  The 
orchestra  was  playing  "In  Dreamy  Chinatown,"  and  the 
waiters,  except  for  "Number  one,"  who  was  Chinese,  were 
all  Japanese. 

"Do  you  know  where  we  are?"  asked  Prima. 

O'Rourke  wondered  at  the  query. 

"We  are  on  the  frontier  of  Asia,"  said  she  reflectively. 
"We  are  not  even  yet  to  the  Pacific — hut  still  we  are  figura- 
tively on  the  Frontier  of  Asia." 

"Frontier  of  Asia?"  repeated  O'Rourke.  "It  does  seem 
something  like  it,  doesn't  it,  with  these  oriental  surroundings, 
these  Asiatic  servants." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  particularly  on  that  account,"  commented 
Prima.  "Their  presence  here  though  is  just  one  of  the 
smaller  proofs  that  mountains,  rivers  and  seas— yes,  even  the 
ocean  itself  does  not  now-a-days  make  a  frontier." 

"What  makes  a  frontier  then?" 

"The  boundary  of  a  nation  is  at  any  point  of  the  whole 
earth  where  it  has  the  strength  and  power  to  get  and  to 
remain. ' ' 

"Then  evidently  this  isn't  the  Asiatic  frontier,  laughed 
0  'Rourke. 

"And  I  hope  that  it  actually  never  will  be,"  quickly  i 
turned  Prima.     "But  do  you  Americans  really  realize  1 
every    day,    modern    inventions,    your    own    inventions,    are 
bringing  the  shores  of  the  Yellow  man  nearer  and  nearer  to 
your  own ;  do  you  realize  that  with  the  tremendous  pressure 


272  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

of  their  population  that  they  must  indeed  one  day  crowd 
down  upon  you,  as  sure  as  water  seeks  its  level  and  rain  falls 
to  the  earth?  Don't  you  realize  that  the  oceans  of  today, 
instead  of  being  an  obstacle,  are  really  an  advantage  to  in- 
vasion, in  that  they  afford  an  evener  and  surer  unobstructed 
pathway  than  the  land  itself  ? ' ' 

"Yes — what  you  say  is  true  and  we  should  not  be  lacking 
in  leaders  to  call  the  people  to  a  sense  of  the  danger,  not 
only  from  that  source  but  from  any  other  invasion  whatso- 
ever. ' ' 

She  paused  a  long  time  and  then  measured  out  her  words 
as  a  cord  passing  through  her  hand,  feeling  for  an  effect — 
waiting  to  see  when  the  cord  would  show  that  it  had  reached 
the  bottom  by  slackening.  "You  have  wondered  at  my  wild 
rhapsody  against  the  United  States,  against  your  country.  .  .  . 
I  wonder  if  you  will  ever  forgive  me  for  what  I  have  uttered. 
It  all  seemed  very  unseemly — did  it  not?" 

O'Rourke  nodded  his  head. 

"Well,  I  had  a  purpose  in  slandering  your  country — a 
great  purpose.  .  .  .  Many  of  the  things  I  said,  I  did  not 
myself  believe — but  I  said  them  with  a  purpose — honest 
purpose — and  that  purpose  is  my  justification." 

O'Rourke 's  look  was  of  wonderment. 

"Yes.  It  may  have  been  a  deception,  but  it  was  justified. 
I  wanted  to  awaken  you — that  you  might  the  better  serve 
the  land  you  love  and  thus  help  the  great  cause  of  humanity. 
You  do  not  understand  me?" 

A  movement  of  the  head  was  his  negation. 

""Well,  I  shall  explain  and  as  briefly  as  possible.  .  .  . 
Since  I  have  come  into  the  possession  of  riches  my  constant 
cry  has  been :  '  How  can  I  best  use  this  money  to  benefit  the 
world  ? '  and  every  time  this  answer  to  my  cry  has  come.  ..." 

She  paused  and  looked  long  at  him. 

"By  making  some  brave  champion  the  implement  of  good 
doing — by  making  some  brave,  strong  champion  serve 
humanity  and  his  country  as  few  men  have  ever  served  it 
before."' 

O'Rourke  gave  a  start  of  amazement. 

"You  are  that  'brave,  strong  champion,'  "  she  suddenly 
declared,  and  then  went  on.  "I  am  going  to  publish  a 
paper — its  name  shall  be  'Humanity.'  My  whole  fortune, 
if  necessary,  shall  be  spent  in  its  success  and  you — you, 
O'Rourke,  must  be  the  soul  behind  my  fortune." 


THE  ASIATIC  FRONTIER  273 

"You  mean  that  I  should  manage  the  newspaper that  I 

should  edit  it?" 

"Exactly." 

"But  much  as  I  would  love  to  serve  you— much  as  I 
would  love  to  serve  all  humanity  in  the  manner  which  you 
propose,  I  cannot — I — I  cannot  ....  " 

She  held  up  her  hand  and  then  arose  there  in  the  seclusion 
of  their  retired  corner.  Leaning  forward  that  he  might  the 
better  hear  she  protested: 

"You  shall  not  say  no — you  shall  not  now  give  me  your 
answer;  but  I  am  sure  that  eventually  you  will  not  deny  the 
world  the  use  of  your  brilliant  leadership." 

His  mind  at  first  was  a  blank — a  dead  blank  like  the  brain 
before  it  has  gone  out  in  the  vagary  of  a  dream.  Then  the 
thoughts  came  pounding  their  interrogations.  .  .  .  What 
could  it  all  mean  ?  How  did  it  happen  that  she  had  by  some 
strange  coincidence  fallen  upon  the  same  plan  for  the  use 
of  her  great  wealth  as  had  Ward?  .  .  .  Ah.  Did  she  know 
anything  about  Ward's  plan?  He  looked  at  her  steadfastly 
to  see  if  perchance  there  might  not  be  some  indication  in 
her  voice  and  manner  to  prove  to  him  that  it  was  a  hoax. 

She  was  still  standing,  her  graceful  form  leaning  slight- 
ly forward,  the  lips  parted,  the  eyes  calm  and  resolute  and 
an  expression  of  intense  earnestness  glowing  from  her  beau- 
tiful face. 

"O'Rourke,  I  am  beginning  to  love  this  country — love  it 
because  it  has  a  great  part  to  play  in  the  service  of  all  man- 
kind. .  .  .  Do  you  think  that  a  land  such  as  this — the  fairest 
and  the  richest  part  of  our  whole  planet  is  just  for  one 
nation's  individual  use — do  you  think  that  God  has  reserved 
this  vast  treasure  ground  for  just  one  nation — just  one 
people?  No — the  nation  that  holds  this  fair  country  must 
be  ever  a  nation  that  labors  in  behalf  of  the  whole  world.  .  .  . 
Its  people  must  be  crusaders  striving  to  win  back  the  holy 
sepulchres  of  mankind  from  the  profane  desecration  of 
empty  nationalism.  No,  O'Rourke,  the  citizenry  of  America 
must  be  more  than  any  people  we  have  heretofore  known  in 
the  history  of  the  world.  They  must  be  humanists  first— 
and  Americans  afterward.  The  cause  of  the  whole  world  is 
theirs.  .  .  .  They  must  win  all  humanity  to  a  new  sense  of 
justice  through  the  nobility  of  their  own  example." 

His  blood  coursed  more  quickly  to  the  sound  of  her  elo- 
quence, the  sweet  clear  toned  voice  rising  and  falling  silvery 


274  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

and  clearly  attuned,  and  yet  so  low  that  none  other  beyond 
him  could  have  phrased  out  the  words. 

She  sank  down  in  her  seat  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands;  tears  were  in  her  eyes  and  wet  on  her  cheeks  when 
she  again  looked  up. 

"You  remember,  Tim,  how  in  the  old  days  we  often  spoke 
of  the  seriousness  of  life — and  how  each  hour  was  another 
step  nearer  the  end  of  the  journey.  .  .  .  We  are  both  farther 
on — oh,  so  much  further,  now  than  then.  You  sacrificed 
everything  for  me.  It  wras  you  who  stitched  one  leaf  after 
another  into  the  book  of  my  life  until  finally  came  the  one 
gilded  with  fame.  Everything  that  I  have  done  has  been 
with  the  sole  thought  of  doing  for  you  what  you  have  done 
for  me.  Now  my  work  is  ended,  the  blood  and  carnage  of 
war  have  taken  from  me  the  soul  to  sing — hereafter  I  want 
to  work  along  merely  as  your  servitor — your  aid,  if  you  will 
allow,  and  this  great  primal  success  which  shall  come  to  you, 
shall  be  sweeter  to  me  than  was  the  day  of  my  own  fullest 
triumph.  .  .  .  The  sun  is  still  before  us  on  the  long  jour- 
ney— do  not  hesitate — but  promise  that  you  will  measure 
the  days  off  with  me  in  this  great  service." 

He  raised  his  hand  in  protest. 

"I  will  not  take  no  for  an  answer,"  she  hastily  declared. 
"You  may  think  it  over — and  then  when  you  have  reflected 
I  know  that  you  will  not  deny  me." 


The  following  few  days  were  cut  deep  in  the  memory  of 
both.  Spokane  with  its  beautiful  lengths  of  spotless  streets 
and  its  waterfalls  bringing  the  freshness  of  the  mountains 
and  the  treasure  of  the  forest,  down  into  the  busiest  center 
of  its  metropolitan  structures ;  Seattle  with  its  snow  crowned, 
forest  girdled  frame,  a  dream  like  picture,  painted  with  the 
reflecting  colors  of  rainbow  lakes  and  the  lambent  beauty  of 
fair  Puget  Sound;  then  Tacoma,  that  bright-eyed  daughter 
of  the  sea,  in  coy  retirement  by  the  forest,  with  nature 
showering  into  her  lap  its  richest  treasures;  then  Portland, 
the  proud  Queen  of  the  Columbia,  where  even  the  clouding 
smoke  of  giant  forest  fires  cannot  smother  the  fragrance  of 
its  roses,  nor  dim  the  gleaming  beauty  of  its  wondrous  river. 

Ah,  that  splendid  Empire  of  the   Great  Northwest.  .  .  . 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  GOOD  HERB  275 

How  big  and  strong  had  been  its  growth,  how  perfect  the 
fulness  of  its  young  life. 

To  them  it  was  like  looking  upon  a  warrior  just  returned 
victorious  from  battle,  with  the  garlands  of  peace  covering 
wounds  that  had  bled ;  ...  for  those  fair  cities  in  the  midst 
of  their  mountains,  forests  and  rivers;  their  crystal  lakes 
and  flowered  shores  stood  as  an  emblem  of  man's  progress, 
which  had  through  the  weary  years  of  bygone  forbears,  been 
bruised  and  broken  in  travail  and  toil. 

And  O'Rourke,  how  it  thrilled  his  heart  and  quickened 
his  pulse,  the  thought  of  the  opportunity  that  lay  before 
him — not  that  offered  him  by  Prima,  for— he  had  already 
given  himself  over  mind  and  body  to  the  task  of  Ward's 
OLD  GLORY — but  that  opportunity  that  he  felt  lay  within 
himself  in  the  very  exultance  of  his  newly  awakened  Ameri- 
canism. 

The  colossal  strength  of  America  should  be  for  the  world — 
for  humanity.  .  .  .  Even  though  he  should  be  by  fate,  but 
one  of  the  smaller  instruments  in  its  advancement,  none  the 
less  it  should  be. 

"My  country  must  be  right.  Right,  ever  right,  my 
country." 


XII 
THE  CITY  OF  THE  GOOD  HERB 

They  were  going  down  to  San  Francisco  by  boat;  they 
passed  Astoria,  that  quaintest  of  all  fishing  and  lumbering 
towns,  built  up  on  stilts  snatched  out  of  the  virgin  forest 
which  still  clusters  about  it,  and  with  a  farewell  look  at  the 
majestic  Columbia  winding  into  the  bay,  they  took  an  ocean 
greyhound,  that  leaped  off  down  the  coasts  of  the  treasure 
lands  beyond,  and  with  the  glory  of  an  evening  sun  painting 
their  way  through  the  Golden  Gate,  came  to  the  mansion- 
crowned  hills  and  the  mart  capped  vales  of  another  wonder 
city  of  the  West. 

Prima  was  exultant. 

''Just  one  city  like  this  is  enough  to  make  anyone  proud 
of  being  an  American,"  she  exclaimed. 

O'Rourke    smiled    and    wondered    if    he    had    not    been 


276  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

dreaming  all  the  terrible  words  she  had  but  a  few  days  before 
been  uttering  against  America. 

"It  has  been  a  long  time  since  I  have  come  to  this  wonder 
city,"  he  said.  "I  really  have  made  this  the  end  of  my 
journey.  It  was  here  that  I  ordered  my  mail  forwarded. 
They  will  be  the  first  letters  that  I  have  received  since  I 
left  Europe.  I  am  glad  that  we  both  succeeded  in  getting 
hotel  reservations.  .  .  .  Everything's  crowded." 

A  deep  look  suddenly  filled  Prima's  eyes — but  she  merely 
smiled  and  said  nothing. 

They  were  to  be  at  separate  hotels,  she  in  the  great  marble 
lined  granite  pile  on  the  hill  of  fashion,  where  the  gilded 
banquet  halls  and  mirrored  ballrooms  made  the  place  more 
like  a  wing  of  Versailles  Palace  than  an  American  hostelry; 
he  in  the  more  commercial  hotel,  where  fashion  compromised 
with  trade,  .  .  .  down  in  the  midst  of  the  city. 

"Let  me  take  you  first  to  your  hotel,"  she  suddenly  sug- 
gested. 

She  alighted  when  they  had  come  to  it  and  sweetly  re- 
marked : 

"  Now  please  do  drive  on  with  the  servants  and  the  baggage 
and  when  they  have  got  things  installed,  come  back  here  to 
look  for  me — I  will  be  in  the  ladies'  room,  wherever  that  mav 
be." 

He  hesitated.  .  .  .  The  request  was  so  unusual. 

"Please  do  go  on,"  she  insisted.  "I  want  to  have  my 
first  impression  of  this  wonderful  city  all  to  myself,  and 
this  hotel  is  as  good  a  place  as  any — right  down  here  in  the 
midst  of  everything." 

Only  for  a  moment  did  he  wonder  at  the  strange  request. 
Then  reflecting  upon  her  privilege  as  a  genius  in  idiosyn- 
cratic indulgence,  he  lifted  his  hat.  ...  In  a  moment  the 
car  had  driven  him  along. 

Barely  was  the  taxi  around  the  corner,  than  in  a  breathless 
haste  she  entered  the  hotel. 

"Where  do  you  get  the  mail?  Where  is  the  post  office?" 
she  asked  of  the  first  employee  she  came  to. 

He  showed  her  the  direction  and  she  quickly  found  the 
way. 

The  clerk  came  forward.  .  .  . 

"Please  pass  me  the  mail  for  Mr.  Timothy  O'Rourke.  I 
asked  to  have  some  mail  forwarded  in  his  care  here,"  she 
explained,  "and  since  I  am  now  waiting  for  him — perhaps 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  GOOD  HERB  277 

I  can  employ  the  time  by  picking  out  my  own  letters 
We  are  relatives,  you  know,"  and  she  shot  one  of  her  win- 
somest  and  sweetest  smiles  upon  the  clerk  whose  calloused 
nature  none  the  less  quickly  responded  in  adoration  of  this 
queen  of  women. 

He  hesitated — looked  at  her  again  and  then  with  a  bow— 
a  very  unusual  formality  with  him — excused  himself,  re- 
turning in  a  moment  with  a  large  packet  of  letters. 

She  gathered  it  up  and  with  another  sweet  smile, 
had  taken  them  away  before  he  could,  perchance,  protest. 

She  dropped  into  a  seat  and  ran  the  letters  over  in  her 
fingers  until  with  a  sudden  start  she  found  one — registered 
and  foreign  post  marked — which  made  her  hand  tremble.  .  .  . 
It  was  of  strong  but  very  fine  paper.  She  ran  the  gummed 
back  quickly  over  her  lips  then  after  waiting  a  moment  for 
the  glue  to  moisten,  with  a  hat-pin  she  deftly  lifted  the  flap 
away. 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  at  the  success  of  the  attempt  she 
pulled  out  the  contents.  .  .  . 

There  was  a  message  of  a  single  page.  .  .  .  With  a  white 
face  she  read  and  then  looked  long  and  hatefully,  at  a  little 
strip  of  braid  which  had  fallen  from  the  letter.  .  .  . 

Then  a  frenzy  of  resolution  urged  her  to  her  purpose. 

With  the  hat-pin  she  cut  away  one-half  of  the  double 
sheet.  What  can 't  a  woman  do  with  a  hat  pin  ? 

The  part  with  the  message  was  crumbled  up  in  her 
hand.  .  .  .  Upon  the  other  part  she  printed  with  pencil, 
the  single  word  "Disillusioned,"  and  then  carefully  replaced 
it  in  the  envelop  brushing  over  the  gum  from  a  blank  envelop 
which  she  took  from  her  bag  and  thus  again  sealing  it  to- 
gether, so  that  it  was,  except  what  had  been  taken  from  it, 
as  it  was  before.  .  .  . 

She  was  quivering  with  excitement — but  now  that  the 
work  had  been  done,  a  single  moment  sufficed  to  restore 
her.  .  .  .  She  did  not  look  for  any  more  letters  in  the  same 
handwriting  for  the  message  itself  told  her  that  this  was 
unnecessary. 

When  she  had  fully  regained  her  composure,  she  went  back 
to  the  postal  clerk. 

Her  eyes  were  dancing  with  merriment  which  she  alone 
knew  was  feigned. 

"Ah,  how  foolish  I  was.  ...  Do  you  know  that  I  had 
entirely  forgotten  that  all  my  mail  is  to  be  forwarded  to  Los 
Angeles.  Ha!  Ha!  Please  say  nothing  about  it.  ... 


278  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

The  clerk  laughed  back — for  who  wouldn  't  laugh  with  such 
a  beautiful  woman?  .  .  .  and  he  did  not  for  a  moment  re- 
flect that  he  had  been  very  imprudent  in  giving  out  mail, 
to  even  one  as  prepossessingly  charming  as  she. 

Her  heart  beat  wildly  while  she  sat  down  and  waited  for 
O'Rourke 's  return. 

The  crumpled  paper  and  the  tiny  bit  of  silk  braid  seemed 
to  burn  into  her  bosom  where  she  had  thrust  them. 

O'Rourke  came. 

"I  am  very  anxious  to  know  what  mail  there  may  be  for 
me — will  you  please  wait  for  me  a  moment  that  I  may  go 
and  see?"  He  turned  to  go. 

She  reflected  quickly.  The  clerk  in  spite  of  the  warning 
might  say  something.  The  episode  would  be  still  too  fresh 
in  his  memory.  ...  It  would  be  better  later.  .  .  .  Clerks  in 
crowded  hotels  forget — and  then  later,  perhaps  the  clerk 
would  go  off  duty. 

She  called  O'Rourke  back. 

"I  know  that  I  am  selfish.  But  I  am  faint.  .  .  .  "What 
good  will  your  letters  do  you  if  I  do  not  give  you  time  to 
read  them.  Please  take  me  to  my  hotel  and  then  you  can 
get  them  afterward. 

He  acquiesced. 

The  car  spun  up  the  hill  with  its  two  passengers,  one  with 
a  light  heart,  thinking  hopefully  of  what  good  news  might 
be  awaiting  him  in  the  long  looked  for  mail ;  the  other  heavy 
hearted,  her  pulse  athrob  with  jealousy  and  hate — and  yet 
torn  with  remorse. 

Ah,  O'Rourke,  what  sadness  awaits  you.  .  .  . 

And  Prima,  what  remorse  shall  be  yours.  .  .  . 


XIII 
DISILLUSIONED 

O'Rourke  hastened  back  to  the  hotel  as  soon  as  he  could 
get  away  from  Prima. 

With  a  light  step  he  hurried  up  for  his  mail.  It  was 
handed  to  him  by  an  assignment  clerk  as  O'Rourke  entered 
his  name  in  the  registry  book.  Fate  had  indeed  favored 
Prima  in  her  wicked  work. 


DISILLUSIONED  279 

As  he  stood  at  the  desk  he  hurriedly  ran  the  letters  over 
until  he  came  to  IT.  Lovingly,  he  took  the  letter  in  his  two 
hands  after  he  had  crowded  the  other  mere  missives  in  his 
pockets.  ...  He  went  into  the  secluded  reception  room 
beyond  the  marble  lobby.  He  wanted  to  be  alone. 

Then  he  opened  it  up. 

A  puzzled  look  overspread  his  face — which  suddenly  went 
white,  then  gray  as  he  pulled  out  that  single  sheet. 

Then  the  word— that  long,  pencil  printed  word  danced 
before  his  eyes — and  he  heard  the  music  playing  on  beyond 
take  it  up  as  a  mad,  mocking,  jangling  chorus.  "Disillu- 
sioned. Disillusioned.  Disillusioned." 

Then  his  mind  became  numb.  He  clasped  his  hands  to- 
gether and  curiously  reflected  that  they  felt  like  putty.  He 
drew  up  weakly  in  his  chair  and  tried  to  think.  A  Chinese 
porter  in  blue  gown  came  by  arranging  the  chairs  and  tidying 
the  velvet  rugs;  he  wandered  at  the  calmness  of  his  face. 

Oh !  How  contented  he  was,  that  Chinese ;  what  a  wonder- 
ful thing  it  must  be  to  go  about  in  a  blue  gown  with  no  other 
thought  than  to  arrange  chairs  and  tidy  the  floor,  and  all 
in  such  a  contented  and  peaceful  manner.  .  .  . 

He  put  his  hand  up  to  his  forehead.  It  was  cold  and  wet 
and  yet  it  seemed  as  though  a  hot  iron  was  held  against  it. 

He  struggled  up  and  then  staggered  down  the  corridor. 

People  looked  at  him  significantly — but  he  did  not  notice 
them.  ...  At  the  door  of  the  bar  he  was  bumped  into  by  a 
couple  of  hilarious  fellows  whose  profuse  apologies  carried 
to  him  much  of  the  aroma  of  the  wine  they  had  been 
drinking;  he  envied  them  the  temperament  that  could  enjoy 
and  forget  in  such  an  absurd  condition  as  wine  bibbing. 

He  wandered  out  into  the  street.  The  fresh  air  somewhat 
revived  him.  He  walked  straighter  now. 

The  grating  of  the  brakes  of  a  tram-car  stopped  directly 
before  him  and  made  him  look  up.  He  did  not  notice  the 
sign  of  its  destination — he  did  not  care — he  only  wanted  to 
keep  going  somewhere  that  the  life  warmth  might  again  come 
back  to  his  tired  nerves ;  so  he  got  on. 

The  car  rattled  along  up  and  down  the  glistening  lines  of 
the  hilly  street  with  its  terraced  houses  of  wood  and  tiers  of 
steep  high  steps. 

Finally  they  came  to  a  turning  where  on  one  side  there  were 
darkness  and  silence,  but  brilliant  lights  and  music  on  the 
other.  Everyone  in  the  car  got  off — got  off  and  went 


280  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

hurrying  down  to  where  the  lights  shone  and  the  music 
played. 

O'Rourke  hesitated  and  then  turned  away  from  the 
lights,  .  .  .  down  toward  the  gloom,  where  the  ebon  black- 
ness of  the  water  alone  reflected  the  light  of  the  stars. 

His  footsteps  struck  dull  and  hollow  against  the  stone  pave- 
ment and  his  form  was  stooped  as  he  went  forward.  .  .  . 
down  toward  the  gloom  and  the  black  water,  fit  companions 
of  his  despondency. 


XIV 
REMORSE  BRINGS  REPENTANCE 

Prima  in  her  bed  chamber  with  its  gilded  ceiling  and  upon 
her  silk  draped  couch,  did  not  once  close  her  eyes  during 
the  whole  of  that  dreadful  night.  From  time  to  time  she 
got  up  and  going  to  one  of  the  huge  windows  looked  out  upon 
a  brown  stone  pile,  which  was  still  as  stately  as  the  day  that 
it  became  the  pride  of  Nob  Hill. 

It  was  an  "old  fashioned"  place  but  yet  so  stately  as  to 
be  always  "new  fashioned."  Its  architecture  and  setting 
pleased  Prima — and  she  pictured  herself  as  its  happy  mis- 
tress, with  O'Rourke — whom  she  was  sure  she  had  al- 
ways loved,  coming  up  its  steps  with  measured  tread  to  meet 
her  with  one  of  those  greeting  kisses  of  years  ago,  but  which 
still,  with  the  memory,  thrilled  upon  her  lips. 

She  wondered  how  he  had  taken  his  disappointment — 
wondered  if  her  single  handed  conspiracy  against  him  had 
succeeded.  .  .  .  Where  was  he  now?  And  when  would  she 
again  see  him  .  .  .  .  ?  Ah,  the  weariness  of  the  hours  of 
night. 

She  restrained  herself  until  one  of  the  last  early  hours 
of  the  morning.  Ah !  She  could  stand  it  no  longer ;  she  would 
call  up  the  hotel  and  merely  ask  if  he  was  there — that  she 
might  know  that  he  was  safe. 

She  called. 

The  sleepy  voice  of  the  operators  sounded  harshly  in  her 
ears. 

"Mr.  Timothy  O'Rourke.  Please  do  not  disturb  him  .... 
if  he  is  asleep.  A  party  merely  wishes  to  know  if  he  is 
there—" 


REMORSE  BRINGS  REPENTANCE  281 

There  was  a  long  wait — several  times  the  sharp  snap  of 
other  connections  jarred  upon  her  wrought  up  nerves. 

"Yes.  He  is  here — that  is — his  rooms  have  been  engaged 
by  him  and  his  baggage  placed  in  them." 

Her  lips  silently  formed  the  thought  of  her  hope. 

Ah,  yes.     He  was  undoubtedly  in  his  room — asleep. 

No,  she  would  not  disturb  him.  "Thank  you;  so  sorry  to 
have  bothered  you." 

And  she  went  back  to  her  bed. 

Dawn  came  and  found  her  again  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow, as  the  burst  of  the  sun  struck  up  out  of  the  great 
Pacific;  and  from  the  Golden  Gate,  out  over  the  western 
lands  a  new  day  was  heralded  to  the  world  that  lay  beyond, 
the  world  just  awakening  from  the  darkness  of  its  night. 

She  threw  open  the  casements  and  looked  down  over  the 
steep  streets  walled  up  with  many  storied  buildings — with 
here  and  there  a  naked  foundation  still  speaking  of  the  ruin 
of  the  quake  and  the  destruction  of  fire. 

The  air  was  fresh  with  the  heavy  ocean  breath  that  bore 
up  from  the  tropic  shores  of  the  South,  tempered  by  the 
currents  that  clave  the  waters  from  the  far  distant  domain 
of  Asia's  shores. 

She  breathed  deeply  and  waited,  her  anxious  eyes  upon 
the  clock — until  that  precious  moment  would  arrive  when 
she  might  conventionally  again  call. 

At  last  the  hands  pointed  the  hour. 

Eagerly  she  went  to  the  telephone. 

There  was  a  wait  of  an  eternity. 

''Yes— Mr.  O'Rourke — I  would  like  to  speak  to  him— 
Yes  — Please  — I  would  like  to  speak  to  him  — to  Mr. 
O'Rourke." 

There  was  another  interminable  wait ;  a  confusion  of  voices 
came  and  then  finally  a  voice— settled  and  matter  of  fact. 

' '  The  chambermaid  says  that  Mr.  0  'Rourke  has  not  occupied 
his  room;  that  Mr.  O'Rourke  is  not  there;  that  his  room 
has  not  been  occupied." 

"Please,"  she  pleaded,  "there  must  be  some  mistake. 
Please  see  again." 

Another  wait  even  longer  than  the  others. 

She  could  hear  someone  preparing  to  speak  at  the  instru- 
ment. Ah.  Perhaps  it  was  he.  ... 

She  held  her  breath. 

It   was   the  same   business  voice   of  the   hotel   emplc 
rather  quicker  and  more  matter  of  fact  now. 


282  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

"No,  he  is  not  in.  Even  his  baggage  has  not  as  yet  been 
opened. ' ' 

The  telephone  receiver  dropped  from  her  hand  and 
swayed  back  and  forth  like  a  pendulum  counting  the 
moments  of  her  dispair. 

She  staggered  across  the  room,  and  fell  upon  the  bed. 

"O!  what  have  I  done — what  have  I  done?"  she  moaned 
bitterly.  .  .  .  And  she  pictured  to  herself  O'Rourke — the 
brave  and  the  strong — her  champion — becoming  as  a  little 
child  in  the  sudden  weakness  of  disappointed  love. 


XV 
WHAT  THE  DRUG  DID 

Prima  was  too  weak  and  nervous  to  know  what  to  do.  ... 
She  felt  desperate  in  her  remorse.  0 !  the  folly  of  her 
wickedness.  O !  how  quickly  she  must  act  to  find  0  'Rourke 
if  ....  ah,  she  dared  not  think  of  it  ....  in  her  terror 
she  called  for  the  house  physician. 

He  came  more  Beau  Brummel  than  professional  in  ap- 
pearance with  that  tailored  air  of  prosperity  which  seems 
to  set  doubtfully  upon  the  backs  of  some  American  profes- 
sional men. 

"I  must  have  something  to  quiet  my  nerves." 

He  understood — and  writing  a  prescription  gave  it  to  her. 

Her  maid  came  at  her  ring  and  telephoned  for  the  drug. 

"How  does  it  say  that  it  should  be  taken?"  asked  Prima. 

"One  dose  every  four  hours." 

Almost  greedily  she  gulped  a  dose  down. 

"Ah,  now  I  shall  feel  better." 

She  lay  down  on  the  bed — her  head  so  racking  with  pain 
that  her  mind  became  a  blank.  To  her  hours — days  seemed 
to  drag  slowly  along,  wear  dully  away. 

She  got  up  and  looked  dizzily  out  of  the  window. 

"What  should  she  do?    Where  should  she  commence?" 

She  felt  no  better — the  drug  had  done  her  no  good.  .  .  . 
Perhaps  it  was  because  she  had  not  taken  enough. 

She  saw  the  parcel  containing  the  prescription  before 
her.  Hastily  she  gulped  down  another  dose — with  no  thought 


THE  SEARCH  283 

of  the  time — no  thought  that  she  had  taken  two  doses  within 
the  quarter  hour. 

Then  she  lay  down  on  the  bed;  her  senses  became  lan- 
guid. ...  Finally  a  smile  came  to  her  lips,  as  the  drug 
gripped  into  her  nerves. 

She  folded  her  hands  and  fell  asleep. 


XVI 
THE  SEARCH 

When  she  awoke — the  doctor  with  her  companion  and  her 
maid  were  standing  by  her  bedside. 

"Lucky  that  I  made  those  doses  rather  weak,"  smiled  the 
doctor,  "had  they  been  even  a  little  heavier,  there  might 
have  been  a  more  serious  story  to  tell.  How  did  it  happen 
that  you  took  the  two  at  once?" 

Prima  hardly  looked  at  him  and  he  felt  himself  dismissed 
by  her  glance. 

"Give  her  this,"  whispered  the  doctor  to  the  maid  as  he 
left. 

"What  time  is  it?"  asked  Prima,  weakly. 

"Half  past  four." 

"And  in  the  afternoon?"  she  asked  bewilderly. 

The  maid  nodded. 

"Ah — get  my  bath  ready — see — quickly — I  must  be  going. 
Call  at  the  phone  and  ask  for  Mr.  O'Rourke  at  his  hotel. 
Tell  him  that  I  am  coming — that  I  have  something  most  im- 
portant to  tell  him — Oh !  quickly,  ask  and  if  he  is  not  there 
find  out  where  he  has  gone." 

The  maid  went  to  the  phone  while  Prima  hurried  into  the 
bath. 

"What  do  they  say?"  she  called  impatiently. 

"That  he  has  gone." 

Prima  came  running  out — dripping  with  water  and 
covered  only  in  the  towels  which  she  had  snatched  over 
her. 

"What— gone!  No,  not  gone—,"  and  then  to  herself  she 
repeated  softly.  "No — not  gone." 

The  maid  helped  her  dress  and  Prima 's  mind  became 
clearer  after  she  had  drank  some  of  the  black  coffee  which 
had  been  sent  up  to  her. 


284  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

Yes,  O  'Rourke  had  left.  But !  she  was  sure  that  she  would 
soon  find  him.  Yes — find  him — the  man  to  whom  she  would 
give  her  last  heart  beat. 

She  herself  would  go  in  his  search — it  was  too  terrible  to 
wait  to  find  out  what  others  might  try  to  do — he  was  an 
easy  man  to  find — he — her  0  'Rourke,  with  his  resolute  step  ; 
the  clear  eyes  and  his  soldiery  bearing. 

She  ordered  a  car  and  started  out,  first  to  his  hotel. 

She  knew  the  number  of  his  suite  and  went  up  directly 
to  it. 

A  chambermaid  was  sweeping  down  the  hallway. 

"Have  you  seen  the  gentleman  who  has  this  suite?" 

The  maid  was  loquacious — not  a  rare  quality  among  hotel 
maids. 

"Shure  an'  the  gintlemin  that  had  thim  rooms  niver  had 
thim  at  all,  M'om.  The  baggage  comes  in  wan  day  an'  goes 
out  the  other — with  no  soight  of  a  human  bein'  wid  'em," 
and  she  held  up  her  hands  in  protest  against  such  ghost- 
like conduct. 

Prima  made  her  way  down  to  the  clerk's  office. 

"What  forwarding  address  did  Mr.  0 'Rourke  leave, 
please?"  and  she  was  glad  at  the  thought  that  the  postal 
clerk  of  the  day  before  had  nothing  to  do  evidently  with 
that  part  of  the  hotel  office. 

The  clerk  went  over  his  books,  consulted  with  a  fellow- 
clerk — then  the  cashier  and  returning,  said: 

"Mr.  0 'Rourke  only  came  here  yesterday  for  his  mail — 
and  then  this  morning  quite  early  someone  came  with  a  note 
from  him — paid  his  bill  and  checked  out  with  his  baggage." 

"Who  was  it,  do  you  know?" 

A  wait  and  then  another  clerk  came  forward. 

"I  don't  remember — I  only  satisfied  myself  that  he  had  a 
right  to  take  the  baggage  away.  I  hope  that  there  is  no 
harm  done." 

"Oh,  not  at  all,"  responded  Prima  weakly.  "I  merely 
wanted  to  get  his  address.  Surely  he  must  have  left  some 
forwarding  address  for  his  mail?" 

The  clerk  again  went  to  make  a  search. 

He  came  back  with  a  telegram. 

"This  is  the  telegram  of  reservation  from  the  Portland — 
if  you  call  up  that  hotel  by  long  distance  it  might  just  be 
that  he  has  made  other  reservations  on  a  California  itiner- 
ary— if  he  had  one — from  that  same  place,  and  perhaps  they 
can  tell  you." 


PAIN  IN  A  PRISON  OP  PLEASURE  285 

"O,  yes — certainly,  he  must  have  had  an  itinerary,"  ex- 
claimed Prima — as  the  hope  dawned  on  her  and  she  remem- 
bered O'Rourke 's  mentioning  that  he  did  not  intend  to  re- 
main long  in  San  Francisco. 

She  would  not  recognize  what  a  far  chance  it  was. 

She  herself  went  to  the  long  distance. 

A  delay  and  then  a  voice  came  to  the  phone. 

It  was  the  Portland  Hotel  talking. 

Yes — they  remembered  Mr.  O'Rourke — the  noted  author. 
When  he  paid  his  bill  he  mentioned  something  about  going 
to  Los  Angeles  and  San  Diego — at  least  that  was  what  they 
remembered — at  all  events — everybody  seemed  to  be  going 
that  way.  That  was  all  the  information  they  could  give. 

But  again  hope  shone  in  Prima 's  eyes. 

Yes,  he  would  have  gone  to  Los  Angeles  or  San  Diego. 

And  on  the  next  train  Prima  herself  was  hastening  thither. 


XVII 
PAIN   IN  A  PRISON  OF  PLEASURE 

The  tide  breasting  in  from  the  Golden  Gate,  now  mantled 
in  the  night,  lapped  its  ripples  up  against  the  shore,  and 
O'Rourke  stood  and  listened.  .  .  . 

Suddenly  in  the  sky  above,  the  roaring  buzz  of  a  motor 
was  heard,  and  looking  upward  he  saw  an  aeroplane's  lights, 
as  it  somersaulted  about  leaving  in  its  train  a  trail  of  pyro- 
technic sparks. 

It  diverted  his  mind  and  suddenly  he  became  conscious 
that  the  lights  and  the  music  and  the  confusion  just  beyond, 
came  from  the  precincts  built  up  in  a  glory  of  architecture, 
amid  a  wonder  of  nature's  own  gem-like  setting  to  com- 
memorate the  greatest  peace  achievement  of  all  mankind. 

Great  lights  shot  out  with  a  gun-like  swiftness  from  giant 
reflectors  just  before  him  and  played  upon  the  lofty  arches, 
the  turret  crowned  towers  and  the  ensculptured  columns  of 
man's  newest  and  most  beautiful  effort  in  the  domain  of  art. 

He  stood  and  looked  as  the  light,  half  curtained  by  the 


286  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

gloom,  beckoned  him  toward  it — one  lustrous  tower  radiant 
with  jewels,  rising  beyond  and  above  him,  with  its  inspir- 
ation of  beauty  and  strength. 

He  clasped  his  hands  behind  him  and  gazed  steadfastly; 
then  turning  from  the  gloom  walked  toward  where  that  at- 
tainment of  man's  own  art  dreamt  out  its  fair  vision  of  a 
more  wondrous  future  in  the  fullness  of  its  present  accomp- 
lishment. 

Yes — to  him  it  meant  life — purpose — new  resolution  in  a 
service  toward  that  humanity  which  here  was  gathered  from 
even  the  warring  corners  of  the  earth,  to  do  homage  to  the 
goodness  of  God  and  his  blessings  on  men. 

Within  those  calm  and  placid  precincts  of  beauty  he  wo^^ld 
find  his  solace  and  from  those  gardens  of  fragrant  flowers 
groves  of  citrus  and  avenues  of  palms,  he  would  gather  the 
balm  to  assuage  his  grief. 

He  had  come  fully  to  himself  by  the  time  he  had  joined 
the  throngs — and  sweetly  the  music  floated  to  him  in  the 
fragrant  air  of  the  perfect  night. 

Hour  after  hour  he  wandered  about,  communing  with  the 
lovely  and  the  fair  of  those  mute  emblems  of  man's  progress 
along  the  highway  of  delight. 

Then  the  throngs  became  fewer — and  finally  the  sound  of 
his  own  footfall  echoed  alone  in  the  silence. 

He  found  himself  standing  in  a  strip  of  sweet  scented 
garden.  Before  him  gleamed  the  lights  of  a  building  which 
alone  was  gathering  in  the  stragglers. 

He  entered.  It  looked  strangely  like  a  hotel  to  him,  with 
its  wide  lounging  corridor  about  which  in  easy  wicker  chairs, 
visitors  were  still  seated  here  and  there. 

He  asked  of  one  of  the  attendants — 

"A  hotel?  Certainly  and  most  excellent  accommodation— 
the  best  in  the  city  and  all  right  in  the  grounds.  Yes — 
some  accommodation  still  open,"  was  the  voluble  answer. 

And  in  a  few  moments — O'Rourke  had  made  himself  a 
prisoner — a  prisoner  of  pain  in  precincts  of  beauty. 


THE  AWAKENING  287 


XVIII 

THE  AWAKENING 


Then  one  day,  0  'Rourke  in  his  prison  of  pain  in  the  walls 
of  beauty  awoke  from  the  dulling  numbness  of  his  disap- 
pointment to  the  full  bitterness  that  he  was  a  man  broken 
and  useless  for  the  great  purpose  of  his  life — and  that  it 
should  not  be  he  who  should  lead  on  in  the  far  crusade 
for  the  weal  of  all  humanity. 

The  weal  of  all  humanity!  Again  and  again  the  words 
echoed  back  to  him  from  somewhere.  His  lips  curled  dis- 
dainfully. The  weal  of  all  humanity!  Ha!  Ha!  What  a 
foolish  phrase.  What  did  it  really  mean?  Nothing  but  a 
soap  bubble  blown  in  the  face  of  eternity.  Ha!  Ha!  The 
weal  of  all  humanity.  He  seeking  it — Ward  seeking  it — two 
men — a  group — an  army — an  army,  yes,  a  nation — what  did 
they  amount  to  in  the  immutable  shuttling  of  the  forces  of 
nature  in  the  womb  of  mortality.  .  .  . 

Again  he  laughed — he  whose  whole  life  had  been  of  the 
intensest  optimism — now  suddenly  found  the  phrase  revolv- 
ing about  like  a  hurdy-gurdy  in  his  tired  brain  until  every 
bright  color  of  his  faith  in  humanity  turned  a  lifeless  grey- 
symbolic  of  his  misanthropy. 

His  thoughts  became  clammy  in  the  revulsion  of  his 
feelings,  and  the  cold  sluggishness  of  his  mind  wormed  down 
to  the  deepest  ooze  of  cynicism. 

0,  the  driveling  conceit  of  man!  Come  Timon!  Come 
Diogenes!  See  these  silk  clad  coxcombs  of  our  so-called 
modern  world  going  about  seeking  in  their  vanity  the  dis- 
tinction of  uplifting  those  whose  garments  are  only  of  cot- 
ton. Ha !  Ha !  What  advance  does  our  modern  world  show 
on  ye?  Come,  Diogenes!  Come  with  a  lantern  to  seek  out 
if  there  be  in  our  midst  a  single  one  whose  charity  means  a 
sacrifice  to  himself.  Charity!  Ha!  Ha!  It  is  the  drink 
given  from  the  overflowing  fountain— not  the  last  drops  from 
the  dried  up  well ;  it  is  the  pomegranate  from  the  tree  drop- 


288  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

ping  the  fullness  of  its  fruit  on  the  wayside,  not  the  care- 
fully hoarded  grains  swept  from  the  floor  of  the  empty 
granary.  Charity  is  the  giving  a  tithe  of  the  surplus  of  the 
surfeited — yes — that  is  the  today,  yesterday  and  forever  of 
man's  boasted  charity  to  man. 

Again  he  laughed.  How  crazed  with  the  desire  to  win  the 
favor  of  mankind  he  had  been !  How  senseless  to  think  that 
he  had  had  a  message  to  give  to  the  world — and  that  with 
Ward's  money  and  inspiration  he  could  go  forth  to  the 
corners  of  the  highways  and  in  the  midst  of  the  market  places 
and  preach  his  sermons  out  through  the  dull  line  of  type. 
Oh!  the  folly  of  the  conceit,  the  hyprocrisy  of  our  vaunted 
reforms.  We  flaunted  the  silk  flag  of  patriotism  while  its 
edges  were  fraying  over  the  raw  backs  of  society's  victims. 
Why  should  the  world  continue  to  bunco  itself  with  the  rot 
of  spurious  reform?  What  had  it  really  ever  accomplished 
for  the  world?  Was  the  English  gunner,  reeking  in  the  blood 
soaked  filth  of  Flemish  trenches  or  the  German  submariner, 
choking  with  the  poisonous  fumes  of  his  craft  submerged, 
doing  the  world  any  more  good  than  the  lash  driven  slave  who 
in  the  night  of  the  world's  history  staggered  up  the  pyramid 
ramps  with  his  load  of  stone  for  Pharaoh's  Tombs. 

Oh !  Why  can 't  men  be  true  to  one  another  ?  Why  can 't 
they  be  just  as  man  to  man;  fathers,  sons,  brothers — ail- 
without  this  Pharisaical  fuss  of  society?  Why — the  terrible 
mechanics  of  modern  governments  with  the  martial  strains 
of  their  army  music  today  and  their  fields  of  unburied  dead 
tomorrow?  Why  not  let  man  just  be  man — a  man  to  enjoy 
the  life  which  God  has  given  him,  and  without  the  dominance 
through  society  of  the  strong  over  the  weak?  Why  hang 
about  their  necks  the  heavy  millstone  of  so-called  social 
progress?  Why  let  those  whose  clutch  is  authority,  decorate 
one  for  merit  and  shoot  the  other  for  desertion?  Why  pray 
for  the  safety  of  one  in  the  death  of  another?  Bah.  .  .  . 
It  was  sickening —  sickening — the  failure  of  modern  society's 
rude  attempt  to  force  happiness  to  one  man  through  the 
misery  of  another.  Yes.  The  governments  of  the  world 
were  confessing  that  Christianity  itself  was  a  failure.  Why  ? 


THE  AWAKENING  289 

Because  they  ignored  the  value  which  Christ  put  upon  every 
human  life — and  made  man  a  mere  pawn  to  be  checked  about 
through  his  whole  life,  by  the  accident  of  his  place  of  birth. 

The  tide  of  his  feeling  burst  through  his  brain  like  a  flood 
from  a  broken  dam.  He  put  his  hands  to  his  throbbing  brow 
and  bowed  low  in  the  mockery  of  his  emotion.  He  felt  tired 
and  for  a  long  time  his  mind  became  blank,  then  it  again 
took  up  its  action  but  sluggishly — slow  and  snail  like. 

Well,  what  did  it  all  amount  to  anyhow?  Man  was  mor- 
tal. That  accounted  for  everything,  for  each  dying  genera- 
tion as  it  went  down,  gave  way  to  another  that  wanted  the 
same  pleasures  and  the  same  joys,  and  in  its  folly  thought 
that  it  could  escape  the  same  pains  and  the  same  penalties. 
As  long  as  man's  instincts  and  passions  were  the  same,  just 
so  long  would  his  naked  feet  bruise  and  break  upon  that 
forever  traveled  circle  about  the  precipice  of  lustful  desire. 
How  then  could  there  be  any  progress?  That  which  the 
world  called  progress  was  really  an  ever  heavier  breaking 
of  humanity  upon  the  wheel  of  its  own  torture.  "Where  shall 
the  world  then  find  its  salvation? 

He  shook  his  head  sadly  and  again  his  mind  became  a 
blank. 

Suddenly  from  over  the  wall  beyond  him,  there  came  the 
terrified  cry  of  an  affrighted  child.  Again  and  again  the 
cry  shrilled  over  to  him — then  suddenly  ceased,  and  he  knew 
that  its  mother  had  come,  for  he  could  hear  her  voice  of  love 
and  comfort  as  she  quieted  the  child. 

The  incident  deflected  the  vagary  of  his  mind  and  his 
thought  started  out  in  the  new  channel. 

Yes.  It  was  true  that  in  the  family  alone  was  found  love 
and  wherever  there  was  love  there  was  progress.  And  then 
love  meant  sacrifice  and  sacrifice  meant  charity — the  charity 
that  would  give  even  from  grains  hoarded  up  from  the  sweep- 
ing of  the  granary — that  would  give  even  of  the  last  drops 
of  water.  Yes.  It  was  there — there  in  the  family. 

But  what  was  society  trying  to  do  to  the  family?  What 
had  it  already  done  to  it  in  America?  Every  day  the  ma- 
chinery of  our  modern  progress  was  loosening  the  ties  of  the 


290  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

family  from  the  safe  anchorage  of  its  dependency.  Modern 
society  was  making  holy  matrimony  a  mere  legal  contract 
to  be  broken  at  the  will  of  the  parties,  the  State  being  mere- 
ly interested  to  the  point  of  seeing  that  the  offspring  did 
not  become  public  charges.  Yes.  America  had  already  es- 
tablished its  program  of  founding  its  family  institution  upon 
the  shifting  sands  of  individual  convenience. 

"What  a  fool  I  have  been,"  murmured  O'Rourke,  "to  have 
ever  thought  that  Old  Glory  could  ever  have  awakened 
patriotic  sentiment  among  our  American  people,  in  whom 
the  fires  of  family  love  are  dying  down  to  ashes." 

He  wondered  why  the  truth  had  never  presented  itself  to 
him  so  sharply  before.  Ha,  Ha.  The  thought  came  to  him 
with  a  mockery  that  amused  him.  Ha,  Ha.  The  great,  big 
American  people  were  so  busy  in  their  individual  interfer- 
ences of  unnatural  law-made  reforms  that  they  had  entirely 
forgotten  that  the  family  after  all  was  at  the  very  founda- 
tion of  a  nation's  power. 

Then  he  gloomily  thought  of  his  own  life.  What  had 
really  been  the  use  of  it  all?  There  were  his  books  spread 
out  wherever  man  had  the  intelligence  to  read;  everywhere, 
translated  in  foreign  languages,  set  up  in  long  lines  in  the 
libraries,  his  name  marked  in  the  catalogues  of  the  famed 
and  one  of  the  household  words  of  the  day.  Yes,  but  only 
of  the  day.  And  what  did  that  amount  to — this  mere  nod 
of  public  approval  for  a  single  hour — and  then  the  night  of 
eternal  oblivion? 

Yes,  his  life  had  been  a  failure.  And  why?  Why  did  all 
the  laurels  he  had  won  now  wither  up  and  blow  away  with 
the  gust  of  his  resentment  against  the  world. 

He  struck  his  hands  to  his  breast  as  though  in  a  very 
abomination  of  himself.  His  mind  no  longer  worked  in 
silence  or  in  half  suppressed  phrases — but  the  spoken  words 
came  full  and  fast  falling  with  the  emphasis  of  a  curse. 

"  Oh !  the  folly  of  my  life.  Oh !  the  madness  of  this  long 
senseless  search  for  public  favor.  Hereafter,  let  me  rather 
seek  joy  in  the  bitterness  of  my  own  melancholy.  Not  even 
a  wooden  cup  for  me,  but  rather  let  me  drink  from,  the  hoi- 


THE  AWAKENING  291 

low  of  my  hand,  with  a  cave  as  my  dwelling  and  a  simple 
cloak  as  my  single  garment.  Oh !  how  God-like  it  is  to  need 
nothing.  If  I  have  not  the  strength  to  withstand  the  rudest 
forces  of  nature,  then  let  my  grave  be  planted  with  thorns 
by  the  bitter  waters  of  the  moaning  sea,  and  there  shall  I  find 
the  rest  which  life  itself  denies  me." 

Again  the  voice  of  the  child  came  to  him — not  in  a  cry  of 
distress,  but  in  the  exultation  of  its  buoyant  spirit  happy 
in  the  confidence  of  the  mother. 

Yes.  After  all  that  was  all  there  was  of  real  happiness 
in  life;  that  biological  immortality  that  made  the  paternal 
instinct  the  strongest  influence  of  the  whole  world.  The  fam- 
ily— the  Christian  family— with  the  cry  of  the  helpless  babe 
safe  in  its  cradle  by  the  glowing  fireside.  Yes..  That  was 
the  great  sphere  of  man's  natural  control;  that  was  the  re- 
straining influence  which  molded  out  his  life  into  the  fullness 
of  content. 

Then  he  thought  back  on  the  events  of  the  last  few  months, 
for  the  first  time  fully  realizing  the  wonderful  effect  they 
had  moved  in  his  nature.  Through  all  the  course  of  adven- 
ture there  came  to  him  that  dominating  sway  of  the  family 
institution.  For  example,  there  was  Magnus.  Yes.  Even 
in  his  wicked  heart  there  had  at  length  come  some  of  the  re- 
fining ascendency  of  fatherly  instinct.  Then  those  Arab 
thieves:  they  had  robbed  that  their  poverty  might  no  longer 
deny  them  the  enjoyment  of  family.  And  the  Duchess — 
and  Cornelia  likewise  links  in  the  God-ordained  causation  of 
family  impulse,  working  reformation  even  on  the  dissolute 
mad-cap  nature  of  Coste. 

He  thought  of  the  peasant  woman — whose  spare  form  and 
face  swollen  with  burning  tears,  came  before  him  as  she 
tenderly  laid  out  the  linen  of  her  fatherless  babe — of  the 
old  German  father  turning  from  the  list  of  the  killed  to 
fondly  look  upon  his  daughter,  the  only  surviving  member 
of  his  family.  .  .  .  and  then  there  flashed  before  him  the 
clashing  lines  of  steel  in  the  battle  by  the  Danube,  where  the 
brave  and  strong  of  youth  had  fallen — all,  the  beloved  mem- 
bers of  families— families  that  had  the  natural  right  to  live 


292  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

and  love  in  an  unbroken  circle — but  whose  right  was  taken 
from  them  by  the  sinister  exactions  of  organized  society. 

His  thought  surged  back  and  forth  like  the  tide  breaking 
up  against  the  current  of  a  mountain  freshet. 

Why  couldn't  a  man  figure  out  some  certain  way  of  life? 
Why  did  he  always  have  to  botch  it  in  some  respect?  How 
could  he  best  pay  for  his  passage  through  life?  Was  it  not 
alone  through  personal  influence?  Yes.  But  personal  in- 
fluence what  did  it  all  mean — if  anything?  Where  was  it 
to  be  found?  Why  had  he  not  found  it? 

For  a  long  time  he  pondered. 

Then  suddenly  it  all  came  clear  to  him — like  a  shaft  of 
sunshine  loosened  in  the  depths  of  a  dungeon.  He  had 
missed  it  because  in  studying  the  machinery  of  governments 
he  had  lost  sight  of  the  overwhelming  importance  of  the  fam- 
ily, in  bringing  happiness  to  man.  He  had  measured  the 
world's  population  alone  by  individuals  and  not  by  fam- 
ilies. He  had  exaggerated  the  worth  of  individual  inde- 
pendence and  underestimated  the  real  value  of  family  de- 
pendence in  the  exactions  it  made  upon  each  of  its  members. 

Merely  having  a  wife  was  not  having  a  family.  His  in- 
fluence or  all  his  own  influence  combined  with  that  of  Prima 
played  no  part  in  the  whole  scheme  of  the  institution  of  the 
family.  They  were  like  two  flakes  of  snow  that  brush  for 
a  moment  together  as  they  fall,  and  melt  into  the  relentless 
current  of  eternity. 

Yes.  Permanent  influence  was  still  only  to  be  found  in 
the  family;  there  alone  was  an  influence  of  lasting  purpose. 
The  General  commanded  an  army,  but  another  could  com- 
mand it  just  as  well  as  he — the  author  wrote  a  book,  but 
another  wrote  one  better — the  artist's  most  inspiring  effort 
had  merely  an  hour  of  triumph — but  the  influence  of  the 
parent  over  the  child  ....  ah,  that  was  a  force  that  rang 
on  down  through  all  eternity — and  a  force  which  alone  the 
parent  could  fully  control. 

Why  had  he  not  thought  it  all  out  before?  Yes.  That 
was  what  he  had  needed,  not  a  mere  wife — but  a  family. 
And  why  had  he  not  had  it? 


THE  AWAKENING  293 

Then  something  like  the  hoarse  grating  of  an  iron  bolt 
sounded  in  his  mind  and  the  sunshine  of  his  revelation  van- 
ished and  left  him  again  in  the  cold  reasoning  of  his  despair. 
The  inspiration  of  his  discovery  was  gone  as  he  confessed  the 
cause  of  his  despondency. 

Yes,  he  had  missed  it — missed  it  in  Athena's  disillusion- 
ment. Missed  it  when  he  had  not  made  his  marriage  to 
Prima  mean  more  than  it  had  ever  been.  Was  it  too  late 
to  return  ?  Would  happiness  come  to  them  ?  Could  he  right 
the  wrong  he  had  done  her?  Did  she  really  still  love  him? 

Then  in  his  perplexity  he  found  himself  again  standing  in 
the  grateful  shade  of  the  Temple  to  Nike.  Athena  was  by 
his  side  and  the  breeze  from  Salamis  blew  her  veil  with  ita 
scent  of  violets  against  his  cheek.  Ah,  if  he  could  only  for- 
get her.  In  his  fancy  he  looked  to  see  if  she  were  still  stand- 
ing by  his  side  as  on  that  wondrous  day  when  their  eyes  first 
met  in  the  vague  but  sweet  understanding  of  their  love. 

Yes.  He  deserved  the  lash  of  the  disappointment,  but  he 
would  take  it  without  flinching. 

Then  he  cried  out  in  his  despair. 

"Yes.  It  is  in  the  family — in  the  family  alone  that  the 
measure  of  happiness  comes.  But  how  can  there  be  a  fam- 
ily unless  there  be  love.  Why  should  I  not  have  had  the 
right  to  call  Athena  wife — to  make  her  the  mother  of  that 
family  in  which  alone  happiness  will  come  to  me." 

And  then  he  stood  up  with  hands  before  him  and  with 
bowed  head,  as  though  to  take  the  lash  bravely  as  it  fell. 
******* 

In  his  thought  of  Athena,  he  had  again  forgotten  Prima. 
Athena  would  always  remain  his  one — his  single  love.  He 
would  live  upon  her  memories.  She  with  her  beauty — her 
heart  of  gold  and  her  spirit  of  fragrance— she  must  ever  re- 
main dead  to  him— but  he  would  remain  a  mourner  by  the 
side  of  his  love 's  sepulchre. 

Then  little  by  little  his  mind  gathered  in  some  thought  of 
Prima.  How  wickedly  he  had  neglected  her.  ...  Not  even 
a  thought  as  to  her  woman's  helplessness— nor  a  single  word 
to  show  his  respect.  Where  was  she? 


294  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

The  next  morning,  after  a  sleepless  night,  he  called  up 
her  hotel. 

She  was  gone — had  been  gone  a  week. 

Where? 

No  indication  had  been  given. 

A  new  yearning  shot  into  O  'Rourke  's  heart ;  a  yearning  to 
seek  her  out  and  make  amends — to  prove  to  her  the  respect 
with  which  she  had  always  inspired  him.  .  .  . 

And  so  he  searched  for  her,  .  .  .  and  she — she  .... 
searched  for  him. 

****### 

If  Evangeline  had  lived  in  the  present  rather  than  in  the 
prosaic  days  when  modern  inventions  have  increased  the  im- 
portance of  the  smallest  individuals,  and  when  man's  in- 
tercourse reaches  out  to  them  with  perfect  ease  in  their 
identity,  there  would  never  have  been  written  Longfellow's 
beautiful  story  of  the  unrequited  search  of  her  despairing 
lover. 

So  since  the  reader  must  have  already  surmised  that  two 
such  persons  as  Prima  and  O 'Rourke — the  one  with  her 
beauty  and  retinue  of  servants — the  other  with  his  interna- 
tional reputation  and  acquaintance — would  not  be  long  with- 
out finding  each  other,  I  will  pass  over  the  story  of  the 
anxious  days  of  waiting,  that  you  may  the  sooner  know  the 
tale  of  their  final  meeting  and  the  events  which  it  inspired. 
******* 

They  met  when  they  least  expected  it — each  one  seeking 
the  other — and  yet  they  met  in  a  place  where  if  ever  one 
should  come — and  just  one  among  the  thousands,  that  one 
should  look  to  find  a  friend — he  would  be  the  surest  of  all 
to  find  him ;  down  on  a  narrow  strip  of  shore  with  its  double 
row  of  beaches,  where  from  the  great  hotel  garden  the  palms 
look  sleepily  off  toward  the  crimsoning  dawn  of  morning — 
but  not  a  whit  earlier  than  those  myriads  of  human  forms 
who  strike  and  plunge  and  bubble  out  the  exurberance  of 
their  glad  seashore  life  in  the  quickening  waters. 

The  white  sands  had  taken  on  the  heat  of  the  morning  sun 
and  the  sea  looked  good  as  it  lapped  up  on  the  beach,  leav* 


A  WOMAN'S  ADVANTAGE  295 

ing  the  mark  of  its  moisture  in  a  reddish,  width  that  followed 
back  with  each  ebbing  wave. 

The  sound  of  a  motor  drawn  up  sharply  by  the  board  walk 
made  her  turn.  She  looked,  her  brain  cleared,  and  then  it 
all  seemed  perfectly  plain  and  natural. 

A.  glad  cry  and  her  two  hands  were  gathered  into  his. 

She  did  not  see  that  his  face  was  drawn  and  haggard — 
the  eyes  deepened  with  distress  and  his  bearing — stooping 
earthward. 

She  was  too  happy,  in  just  that  sublime  thought  which  to 
her  like  a  glad  chorus  repeated  itself  again  and  again. 

' '  At  last  he  has  come —  He  is  here — he  is  here. ' ' 


XIX 
A  WOMAN'S  ADVANTAGE 

If  a  woman  has  brains  enough  to  obtain  an  advantage  over 
a  man — she  always  has  the  brains  to  keep  it. 

As  Prima  reveled  day  after  day  in  the  companionship  of 
O'Rourke — the  less  she  thought  of  undoing  the  wrong.  She 
sought  to  justify  her  conduct  in  the  excuse  which  has  been 
more  pleaded  in  court,  more  condoned  by  society  and  more 
approved  by  man,  than  any  other  exculpation  in  the  whole 
realm  of  mortal  defense  of  human  conduct — a  woman's  love 
for  man. 

Even  when  she  looked  upon  O'Rourke  with  his  hollow 
eyes  and  his  wrecked  physique,  she  tried  to  hold  down  her 
secret  by  declaring: 

"I  will  myself  make  him  well.  Again  I  shall  make  him 
love  me  and  it  Mall  be  best  for  him  in  the  end." 

But  time  wore  along  and  still  O'Rourke  did  not  mend 
even  in  the  fresh  morning  blows,  that  came  over  from  the 
sea  to  him  in  his  open  air  life  among  the  flowers  and  the 
palms.  And  Prima  herself  commenced  to  feel  a  new  ail- 
ment—something down  deep  in  a  place  she  had  never  before 
felt  in  her  whole  life— some  newly  found  abode  in  her  beau- 


296  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

tiful  body  where  consciousness,  up  to  that  time  unemployed, 
had  found  at  last  a  lurking  place  and  from  which  it  came 
out  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night  like  the  strange  fan- 
tastic beast  of  a  nightmare  to  prey  upon  the  serenity  of 
her  soul. 

She  felt  like  a  little  plant  of  the  forest  gathered  into  a 
florist's  shop,  which  every  time  the  rain  pelted  on  the  pave- 
ment without,  drooped  all  the  more  by  reason  of  the  disap- 
pointment of  its  being. 

Yes,  the  canker  of  ill  doing  was  eating  away  her  very  soul 
— and  Prima  knew  herself  too  well  not  to  realize  that  the 
cause  of  her  misery  was  now  becoming  not  so  much  the  dis- 
appointment of  her  love,  but  rather  the  thought  that  she 
was  wrecking  the  man  she  loved — driving  him  upon  the 
rocks — every  wave  of  her  emotion  pounding  harder  and 
harder  against  him — until  finally,  .  .  .  Ah,  she  did  not  dare 
think  .... 

And  as  this  change  was  taking  place  within  her  spirit — 
so  also  her  mirror  showed  that  her  beautiful  form,  which 
had  excited  the  admiration  of  the  multitude,  was  wearing 
its  beauty  raw,  against  the  confinement  of  her  own  wicked 
subterfuge.  .  .  .  Ah,  supposing  that  she  would  be  able  to 
again  win  him, — would  she  not  have  destroyed  herself  in  the 
triumph  ? 

O'Rourke  day  by  day  appeared  more  pathetic,  and  now 
as  he  looked  at  her — long  and  steadfastly  with  the  weak, 
faint  smile  of  fortitude  still  hovering  upon  his  lips, — his 
eyes — his  every  feature  to  her  seemed  to  take  on  the  ex- 
pression of  a  Saint  crucified. 

Crucified  and  why  ?  By  whom  ?  For  what  purpose  ?  And 
her  soul  cried  out  within  her,  time  and  again:  Tell  him, 
think  of  his  suffering  and  the  suffering  of  that  other — that 
other  victim  of  your  jealous  hate.  .  .  . 

But  she  felt  that  she  did  not  have  the  strength.  She  tried 
to  devise  some  easier  means  to  let  him  know.  .  .  .  "Was  there 
any  way  that  she  could  mail  the  missive  to  him — with  that 
braid — that  braid — his — her  decoration,  that  bit  of  silk  that 
meant  so  much  to  them  and  the  happiness  of  their  whole 


I  AM  THINE  297 

lives?  Supposing  that  she  should  leave  it  in  her  bag  and 
let  him  find  it?  Ah—  No—  There  was  only  one  way— to 
let  him  know;  the  way  of  right  and  truth— the  hard  way  of 
repentance  and  remorse.  .  .  .  Could  she  find  the  strength  to 
follow  it?  Could  she  ever  make  the  sacrifice?  Would  she 
ever  be  able  to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  a  confession  before  the 
bar  of  his  judgment  and  hers— the  woman,  that  woman  .... 
she  hated  as  much  as  she  loved  him? 

The  thoughts— the  doubts— the  perplexities  of  each  suc- 
ceeding hour,  wore  heavier  and  harder  upon  her. 

And  0  'Rourke  's  sad  eyes,  waking  or  sleeping  in  her  fancy 
still  looked  into  hers — and  his  head  was  turned  as  though 
he  was  listening — vainly  listening  to  hear  the  happy  songs 
of  the  memories  past. 


XX 

I  AM  THINE 

That  day  was  wondrously  fair  and  balmy — but  a  cloud 
hung  at  the  end  of  every  minute  of  the  golden  morning  as 
Prima  awaited  his  coming. 

They  went  out  under  the  palms  where  the  fragrance  of 
the  flowers  kissed  the  breath  of  the  sea.  They  sat  down  close 
by  the  edge  of  the  purling  water,  where  the  wavelets  broke 
and  turned. 

She  commenced  softly. 

"  There  are  two  things  in  this  whole  world  which  are  un- 
changing alone  of  all  within  it." 

He  looked  at  her,  but  her  eyes  avoided  his.  She  gazed  off 
toward  the  blue  expanse,  and  then  recited  softly  as  though 
to  herself,  the  words  coming  to  him  mingled  with  the  refrain 
of  the  water. 

"0,  the  sea,  emblem  of  God's  unchanging  power;  moun- 
tains cleave  in  twain,  hills  crumble  to  dust,  fair  plains  be- 
come deserts  and  deserts  then  again  bloom  into  gardens;  the 
earth  and  all  the  fullness  thereof  change  with  the  wear  of 


298  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

the  ages,  yes — even  in  the  smile  of  a  single  summer  or  the 
blast  of  a  single  winter.  .  .  .  But  Thou,  O !  Sea,  in  all  the 
world  of  matter  remainest  unchanged  and  changeless  as 
when  first  reflecting  back  the  pristine  glory  of  the  sun,  and 
in  the  realm  of  spirit  alone,  in  the  glory  of  a  woman's  love 
is  found  the  counterpart  of  thy  enduring  quality." 

She  paused  and  breathed  heavily — deep  and  full  of  the 
breath  that  came  to  her  from  over  the  water — giving  her 
strength  and  will  to  continue. 

"Yes,  parallel,  for  woman's  love  is  only  found  in  the  sea." 

"How  beautiful  the  thought,"  he  murmured. 

"Yes — and  the  sea  has  its  moods  and  its  whims — yes  and 
its  hatred  like  women,"  her  voice  sank  lower. 

"The  sea  has  been  man's  greatest  peril — and  also  some- 
times, too,  has  woman's  love  brought  him  danger." 

He  smiled,  pleased  with  the  comparison,  while  she  slowly 
continued : 

"When  the  sea  is  calm  the  sailors  laugh  and  forgive  it 
for  the  treachery  of  its  storms.  Do  you  not  think  then  that 
man  should  forgive  women  when  they  repent  and  confess 
their  fault?" 

' '  Assuredly.  A  man,  right  in  mind,  never  lived  who  would 
deny  to  frail  woman  her  right  to  forgiveness." 

She  clasped  his  arm. 

"Then  prepare  to  forgive  me." 

Her  breath  came  short;  then  she  drew  herself  up  and, 
looking  out  toward  the  sea  with  fixed  eyes,  in  a  measured 
tone  commenced: 

"The  story  is  long,  but  I  shall  make  it  short." 

Her  eyes  rested  lovingly  upon  him. 

"O'Rourke,  I  have  never  ceased  to  love  you  from  the  first 
moment  of  our  meeting." 

"Why  then  did  you  get  the  divorce?" 

"Why?  Because  I  was  mad — mad  with  jealousy — mad 
with  success — mad  with  a  desire  to  be  revenged.  Do  you 
not  know  that  I  was  informed  of  every  movement  that  you 
made — that  I  knew  of  your  love  for  that  American  girl?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 


I  AM  THINE  299 

"Yes —  and  those  two  years  that  we  lived  apart  when — 
success  came  crowding  up  so  fast  to  my  door  that  it  even 
crowded  you  away—  ....  What  does  my  success  amount 
to  now  since  it  made  me  lose  you?  That,  too,  was  the  re- 
sult of  my  madness."  She  looked  at  him  helplessly  and  then 
in  a  low  voice  went  on: 

"I  must  talk  fast,  for  my  strength  is  not  great  enough 
for  the  terrible  confession." 

Her  eyes  were  wild. 

' '  I  had  them  follow  you.  Every  move  you  made  came  back 
to  me — and  then  when  I  found  out  about  your  taking  the 
contract  with  Ward  to  start  the  newspaper — I  followed  you 
over  to  America,  arriving  here  just  the  day  before  you.  .  .  . 
I  thought  that  I  could  win  you  back — not  with  my  great 
love  for  you,  but  with  my  money — for  I  am  rich — yes,  rich — 
but  I  would  give  all  that  I  possess  to  be  poor  and  happy  with 
you,  just  as  we  started  out  together." 

Her  words  moved  him.  ...  He  put  out  his  hand  softly  to 
calm  her. 

"Ah — would  to  God  that  that  were  all  that  I  had 
done,  .  .  .  but,  O'Rourke,  see — was  there  ever  guilt  as 
great?" 

She  reached  down  into  her  bosom  and  brought  forth  the 
letter  ....  and  then  the  braid,  wrapped  in  a  bit  of  heavy 
perfumed  cloth. 

"And  now  I  will  seal  your  happiness  and  my  own  misery 
through  life.  .  .  .  Take  it  and  read.  Go  and  join  her  but 
I  shall  always  love  you — love  you  with  as  many  heartbeats 
as  there  are  sands  of  the  sea." 

She  put  her  hand  upon  him  lovingly.  Her  eyes  were  brim- 
ming full,  but  no  tears  fell.  Her  voice  came  with  the  ac- 
cent of  love — of  repentance,  sweet-laden  with  the  heaviness 
of  sacrifice.  .  .  . 

"Go  to  her.  My  prayers  shall  be  for  you.  God  forgive 
me  the  wrong  I  have  done  you  both!" 

He  fumbled  with  the  wrapping— his  face  was  blank— he 
had  no  premonition  of  what  it  contained  until  the  perfume — 
the  perfume  that  Athena  loved  came  stronger  and  fuller  as 
the  cloth  unfolded.  .  .  . 


800  MISS  AMERICAN  DOLLARS 

His  hand  tightened  as  with  an  electric  shock  when  he  saw 
the  braid.  He  seized  it — breathed  a  deep  breath — and  then 
a  sigh  came  full  and  heavy.  He  put  his  hand,  still  clutch- 
ing the  braid,  to  his  head — he  read  the  message,  dazed  and 
giddy — ;  then,  suddenly  clear-minded  and  steady,  he  looked 
away  in  silence,  his  thought  pulsing  out  in  gladness  at  the 
joy  of  the  revelation. 

' '  Yes,  Athena  is  mine — mine  for  the  institution  of  the  fam- 
ily; mine  for  the  mother  of  my  children;  mine  to  love  on 
forever.  Let  the  greedy  world  revel  in  the  carnage  of  hate. 
Let  others  be  the  heralds  who  shall  add  their  unheeded 
alarums,  to  the  din  of  battle  and  strife.  Let  the  hate  of  men 
rage  on — but  for  me  there  shall  be  the  happiness  of  the 
home — the  integrity  of  the  family,  the  upbuilding  of  that 
influence  which  if  unhampered  by  the  artificial  machinery 
of  rule,  shall  by  the  sweetness  of  its  natural  sacrifice  make 
all  men  courageous  and  their  women  all  virtuous.  Let  man 
begin  at  the  bottom,  not  at  the  top,  to  reform  society.  He 
serves  his  country  best  who  cherishes  his  family  most." 

Again  he  read  the  message,  still  oblivious  of  the  presence 
of  Prima.  Then  he  arose  and  cried  out  joyfully,  the  words 
incoherent  in  the  gladness  of  their  quick  utterance : 

"She  is  coming — coming  to  me.  Perhaps  their  ship  may 
be  already  in." 

And  leaping  up,  he  sprang  off  down  the  beach,  his  heart 
surging  with  joy. 

She  slowly  turned  her  head.  .  .  .  Her  gaze  followed  him — 
followed  him  as  he  bounded  joyously  away  down  the  beach, 
up  on  the  plank  walk;  then,  with  a  hurried,  swinging  stride, 
that  seemed  to  her  a  run,  he  went  on  where  the  flowers 
bloomed  in  the  garden  by  the  beach.  .  .  . 

Still  he  did  not  turn  about — nor  give  one  single  look  be- 
hind, .  .  .  but  hastened  on  with  quickened  step  and  finally 
disappeared  in  the  depths  of  the  palms  that  gathered  their 
heads  over  the  roadway. 

And  when  he  was  gone — her  imagination  still  followed 
him,  as  he  sent  out  the  message  of  his  coming — coming  to 
give  the  love  that,  at  one  time  had  been  hers.  .  .  . 


I  AM  THINE  301 

The  waves,  with  the  flow  of  the  tide,  rolled  nearer  to 
her,  .  .  .  came  almost  so  near  that  the  salt  of  her  own  tears 
— the  tears  of  unchanging  woman's  love — mingled  with  the 
brine  of  the  unchanging  sea.  .  .  . 

Alone,  she  huddled  down  close  to  the  sand,  as  though  to 
mitigate  her  misery  by  communion  with  nature. 

The  tears  fell  fast  and  for  a  time  her  whole  form  shook 
with  the  violence  of  her  weeping. 

She  dried  her  eyes  and  sat  still  and  silent.  .  .  .  Then  a 
smile  of  courage  spread  over  her  face — for  the  sea  seemed 
suddenly  to  her  an  altar  upon  which  and  under  the  canopy 
of  heaven  she  had  pledged  anew  her  love — a  love  that  would 
never  change  nor  shrink  from  sacrifice — a  love  as  lasting  as 
the  immutable  form  of  the  sea  itself.  .  .  . 

And  as  she  looked  out  on  the  water,  her  smile  of  courage 
became  sweet,  .  .  .  sweet  with  the  felicity  of  her  atonement. 


THE  END 


Other  Books  by  Paul  Myron 

Mid-Nation  Publishers,  Linebarger  Brothers' 

Successors,  announce  the  following  future 

issue    of    books    by    Paul   Myron 

BOOKS  ON  CATHAY 

Chinese  John.  To  correct  our  false  im- 
pression of  the  Chinese. 

Latch  Strings  to  China.  An  interpreta- 
tion of  Chinese  life  through  tales  of 
tragedy,  mystery  and  humor.  (Running 
in  Mid- Nation  Magazine.) 

ROMANCES  OF  TRAVEL 
Daniel    Dares.     Around    the    world    de- 
scriptive  novel   which   centers   its   romance 
in  the  Latin  Quarter. 

The  World  Gone  Mad.  The  intimate 
story  of  a  woman's  love  as  influenced  by 
the  horrors  of  war. 

OTHER  SUBJECTS 

When  Japan  is  Ready.  The  French, 
German  and  American  viewpoints  of  the 
Far  East.  Paul  Myron's  six  years  in- 
cumbency as  U.  S.  Judge  in  the  Philippines, 
and  his  subsequent  wide  travels  in  the 
Orient  form  the  ground  work  of  the  narra- 
tive. 

Martha's  Christian  Science.  A  tale  of 
the  Bright  Way.  A  popular  study  of 
Christian  Science,  compared  with  the 
teachings  of  John  Wesley. 

Mid-Nation  Publishers 

Linebarger  Terrace,   Milwaukee,  Wi«. 


The  following  pages  are  advertisements  ot 
[•an!  Myron's  Looks,  from  the  list  of  MID-NATION 
PUBLISHERS. 


PAUL  MYRON 

IN  HIS 

"Chinese  Chances  Through  Europe's  War" 

has  succeeded  in  doing  the  "impossible"  in  awakening  the 
American  Public  to  a  live  interest  in  China 


ORDINARILY   books  on   China   have   a   limited   circulation   and  receive   but 
meagre   and   indifferent   comment.      Consequently    the   publishers   of   Paul 
Myron's    "Our   Chinese   Chances,"   with   gratitude,    acknowledge   the   wide 
publicity  given  this  volume  by  the  press  of  the  English  speaking  world  all  the 
way  from  the  Dan  of  the  London  Spectator  to  the  Beersheba  of  the  Far  Eastern 
Review.      The    following   comment    is   given    as   representative   of   the   different 
sections  in  the  United  States. 

"Entertaining  account." — Boston  Globe. 
'A  well  informed  book."- — Portland  Oregonian. 
'Much  valuable  information." — Los  Angeles  Express. 
'Speaks  with  authority."- — Milwaukee  Journal. 

'Volume  one  of  interest;  agreeably  written." — Providence  Journal. 
'Writes   with    conviction,    authority   and   obviously    first-hand    knowledge." 

— Montreal  Daily  Star. 

"A  man  not  only  of  conviction,  hut  of  more  than  casual  acquaintance  with 
the  Chinese." — New  York  Independent. 

"The  book  has  an  interest  apart  from  the  utilitarian  side  in  the  account 
of  the  personal  experience  of  travel  in  China." — New  York  Sun. 

"A  very  informing  volume — a  most  readable  book  filled  with  matter  de- 
serving of  wide  circulation." — Milwaukee  Free  Press. 

"The  book  is  a  mine  of  plain  everyday  information  that  is  eminently 
calculated  to  appeal  to  the  general  reader  as  well  as  to  the  special  class  for 
which  it  is  directly  designed." — Washington  (I).  C.)  Star. 

"The  book  has  a  real  value  for  readers  who  wish  to  read  all  sides  and 
form  their  own  judgments." — Madison  Journal. 

"Description,  narratives  and  conclusions  are  unusually  interesting  and 
entertaining  and  will  serve  to  dispel  common  misconceptions  of  China  and  its 
many  distinct  peoples."- — New  Orleans  Times  Picayune. 

"Paul  Myron  in  his  volume  on  the  Chinese  empire  leaves  little  to  be 
desired  by  those  who  wish  to  obtain  a  clean  cut  idea  of  China  and  her  people, 
for  not  only  is  the  book  written  with  a  thorough  understanding  of  the  subject 
but  by  one  in  whom  a  deep  heart  interest  colors  every  line.  This  interesting 
volume  is  a  travelogue  and  modern  history  of  China  combined." — Detroit  News. 
"Paul  Myron,  soldier,  traveler,  lecturer,  lawyer,  judge,  has  been  a  writer, 
but  only  when  he  reached  the  age  of  forty  and  by  rare  good  fortune,  came  into 
highly  productive  real  estate,  could  he  afford  himself  the  leisure  of  writing  of 
the  sentimental  and  romantic  side  of  the  Chinese  .  .  .  'Our  Chinese 
Chances'  is  the  result  of  his  ten  years  of  intermittent  study  of  trade  conditions 
in  China." — Saint  Louis  Globe  Democrat. 

"In  'Our  Chinese  Chances'  Paul  Myron  does  more  than  give  suggestions. 
He  paints  a  charming  and  interesting  picture  of  Chinese  life.  It  is  a  readable 
and  delightful  book  well  illustrated. " — Indianapolis  Xcirx. 


ron 


Picture  of  a  Chinese  lady  of  quality  by  Rioniin,  the  great  Chinese 
artist  of  a  thousand  years  ago.  Note  how  few  and  simple  are  the  lines 
and  yet  how  distinctive  the  portrait.  "Our  Chinese  Chances"  gives  a 
sympathetic  and  true  idea  of  the  Chinese.  220  pages  with  35  Illustra- 
tions on  14  pages,  cloth  bound  $1.25  net,  mailing-  weight  22  ounces. 
To  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold  and  from  MID-NATION  PUB- 
LISHERS, Linebarger  Terrace,  Milwaukee,  Wls.,  U.  S.  A. 


University  of  California 

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